Repelling Ever Closer
by hardly loquacious
Summary: A collection of all of my season 3 AU post-eps.  Last season J/L were in a slightly screwed-up established relationship.  It disintegrated slightly over the summer.  The collection picks up after the premiere and will follow the new season.
1. Post 301: Not so unwilling

A/N: As some of you know, I've decided to continue my series of AU post-eps where Jane and Lisbon are in a relationship. So far I think Season 3 is awesome, and I'm tentatively planning a bit of an arc, though obviously that will depend on exactly what happens in some of the eps. As it is, there will be more than one of these, I have no idea how many at the moment. Probably not one for every episode. But since there will be a few of them, I thought it made more sense to keep them all in one place (plus I'm getting sick of listing the pre-existing post-eps each time I write a new one). This collection will follow my S2 post-eps (and pretty much directly follow "If Ye Break Faith"). You don't need to read them all to understand what's going on. Basically J/L have been in a screwed up established relationship of sorts (more than friends with benefits, significantly less than dating) for most of season 2, but it dissolved to an extent after Kristina Frye came on the scene.

The existing stories include: To hold but maybe not to keep (post 2.03), Mutual Liberation (post 2.06), In all Fairness (post 2.09), The Sins of Our Fathers (post 2.10), Overnight Abandon (post 2.13), and If Ye Break Faith (post 2.22-2.23).

The first post-ep to the season premiere is dedicated to canisedocanis, for sending me such lovely reviews to all of these, along with another lovely PM. Thanks also to AlamoGirl and yaba, who inspired parts of this. I'm sure they'll both know which parts when they get to them.

xxxxx

Post-3.01: Not so unwilling

xxxxx

Jane sat staring out at the roof.

Alone.

By choice of course.

Lisbon accused him earlier of shutting down, of pushing the team away ever since Kristina Frye had disappeared.

The idea almost made him smile. It was funny in a way.

After all, he'd started destroying his ties with _her_ even before the disappearance. '_The disappearance,_' like there was even the slightest chance that Red John _hadn't_ taken Kristina. Still, sometimes even law enforcement liked their little euphemisms, liked to use language to blunt an unpalatable reality.

Lots of things were unpalatable in his life lately. Lonely too. But, Jane'd made that choice months ago.

Not that the ties he'd decided to break had been _defined_. Like that somehow made it alright to break them without a thought.

But he had broken them. Or maybe not broken, maybe just bent. They were still there; there was still something between him and Lisbon. But it wasn't like it used to be. It'd been indefinable before, now it was even worse. Because he'd thought it would be a good idea to take another woman out to dinner. He'd betrayed the closest thing he had to a partner for what would have only ever been a temporary challenge. A very attractive temporary challenge to be sure, and Lisbon was better off without him, but…

But it still felt like a loss.

Not that Lisbon would ever admit that he'd betrayed her. Not aloud, not to him, and maybe not even to herself.

Because they'd always both been free to do what they chose. They'd both been repeating that phrase to themselves like a mantra. No strings, no definitions, no commitment, ergo, no betrayal.

So, if it wasn't a betrayal why _had_ things changed between them?

Why, when he dropped by her condo at night, was he now relegated to her couch?

And more importantly why had he allowed himself to attempt to get close to Kristina in the first place? He wasn't allowed the luxury of genuine human contact. That point had been roughly driven into his brain a few months ago. Lisbon still optimistically (and maybe naively) maintained that RJ taking Kristina may have had everything to do with her television appearance and very little to do with her date with him. Besides, there was still a chance she'd just run off. That her disappearance had nothing to do with Red John. Jane didn't think he could believe any of it.

Still, he was guiltily grateful that Red John had chosen to punish him for daring to get close to another human being by taking _Kristina_.

The only alternative was absolutely untenable to him.

So now he was under a self-imposed solitude.

One that Lisbon was apparently ignoring. Contrary woman.

She was concerned about him. Jane knew that. And he appreciated it in his way. But couldn't she see that he should just be left alone? That she shouldn't get too close?

Given his frame of mind Jane acknowledged that the footsteps outside the door were almost expected.

"Hey Lisbon," he said without turning around.

"I thought I'd find you here," Lisbon replied, obviously not at all surprised that he'd guessed her identity. But then, why would she be? Jane couldn't think of a single other person who'd bother to come to find him in the attic of the CBI. Well, unless it was someone Lisbon had sent to find him for whatever reason.

He liked it up in the attic in a way though, even if it did make him feel a little bit like any number of crazy characters from Victorian novels. He couldn't decide whether he was more Miss Havisham or Bertha Rochester, both slightly nuts and imprisoned away for the good of society. Whether it was by choice or by force didn't matter as the end result was the same. Though if he was comparing himself to a Victorian recluse then Jane supposed he should start getting into the spirit of the thing and start calling the attic a garret. It was more apropos somehow. Whatever he called it, the top floor of the CBI had become something of a haven. It made him feel safe. It was still in the CBI building, but it was far enough away from _her_ that he worried less about tainting her by association.

Of course, Lisbon (as usual) never seemed to appreciate the things he tried to do for her.

"Where else would I be?" Jane asked, finally turning to face her and sending her a friendly grin.

Lisbon raised her eyebrows. "I don't know," she said sarcastically. "Home maybe?"

"Eh," Jane said with a half-shrug. He didn't see much point. After all, he'd be just as alone at home as he was in his garret. At least garrets were conducive to loneliness and introspection; they almost demanded a corresponding sense of melancholy really. Hell, he even had a book of poetry to read now. The stereotypical picture of traditional isolation of the eccentric artistic temperament was basically complete. He supposed he needed a ragged looking blanket of some indeterminate colour for it to be perfect.

Or it would have been but for the woman standing across the room from him holding a box of checkers of all things. Jane decided to ignore that for now. "Awfully hypocritical of you wouldn't you say Lisbon?" he asked her instead. "After all, you tell me to go home yet you're still here. I think this is the point in the conversation where I compare the two of us to various dark-coloured cooking equipment."

Lisbon sent him a mild glare. "I _did_ go home Jane," she told him. "As you well know. Those amazing powers of observation that you're always telling me about have no doubt picked up on the fact that I've changed my clothes."

"You could have those in your office," Jane said stubbornly, though he knew she didn't. Lisbon wouldn't bother to keep clothes that casual in her office, an extra change of clothes for a work emergency certainly, but not blue jeans and an (admittedly quite form-fitting) red t-shirt.

"Nope," Lisbon said blithely. "Went home, had dinner, spilled tomato sauce all over my shirt, hence the change of clothes. Got bored, came here."

"Because nothing cures boredom like the non-stop action of the CBI building at nine on a Thursday night," Jane said sarcastically.

"Like I said, I thought you might be here," Lisbon replied, ignoring the sarcasm.

"You did say that," Jane agreed. "Now the question is, why did you want _me_?" he asked, realizing far too late that the loaded question might lead them into a minefield.

"I wanted to play checkers," Lisbon said easily. The translation, '_I was worried about you. Wanted to check in,' _went unsaid.

Jane let her get away with it, unwilling to bring any undue attention to the issue either. "I had noticed your unexpected cargo," he admitted.

"Amazing powers of observation that you have and all," Lisbon teased.

Jane smirked, letting her have her little verbal victory. "Why?" he asked.

"Why not?" Lisbon countered with a shrug. "I like checkers."

"Well, yes Lisbon, I figured that," Jane admitted. "But I was curious as to why checkers specifically out of all the games possible."

"I'm sure you have your theories," Lisbon deflected.

Jane noticed the deflection, but he'd never been any good at passing down a challenge, even one that was only implied. He studied her. She was doing her damnedest to exude perfect calm, but the subtle flickering of her eyes and the slight shifting her weight from side to side gave her away. Lisbon was nervous. Why he wasn't sure. Surely she didn't think he'd order her out of his attic. Jane took a moment to send a mental prayer to the universe that things between them hadn't deteriorated _that_ far. But then why was Lisbon nervous about checkers? Afraid that he'd discover some secret importance to the game that she didn't want him to? Or simply afraid that she'd make fun? Though the fact that she didn't want him to make fun implied that checkers, for whatever reason, was special to her. Probably because of something from her childhood, given the game in question. Jane's face softened slightly. Lisbon didn't have that many positive associations from her childhood. This was probably a carefully-guarded secret, though not a particularly profound one. Just a memory that she didn't want tarnished.

Jane felt the now-familiar surge of affection this woman seemed to produce in him at the most unexpected times.

He pushed it aside since he still needed an answer to her question. One that was close enough to the truth that she wouldn't be suspicious, but not something that would make her defensive.

Instead of answering right away Jane grinned, and removed two checkers, one of each colour, from the box in front of them. He put his hands behind his back and then held them out to her a second later, a checker concealed in each fist. Lisbon tapped his right hand, apparently unperturbed by his silence. Jane opened his fist to show her the red checker. "You picked checkers because it's nostalgic," he told her suddenly.

Lisbon glanced at him quickly before busying herself setting up the board.

"You were watching something on television," Jane continued. "Something that reminded you of when you were growing up. A favourite children's movie maybe? Or was it a television show. No, it was a movie," he decided watching her face. "Then you glanced towards that cupboard in your living room where you keep your odd little selection of board games, and all at once you wanted to play one. Funny how the mind makes those little associations, isn't it? From there it's a fairly straightforward path to find me. After all, how many people do you know who're free to play checkers with no warnings on a weekday evening?" he asked.

"Other than my crazy consultant who's taken to hiding in the attic of the building we work in?" Lisbon asked pointedly.

Jane shrugged. "It's quiet," he explained. "Peaceful. Helps me think. As to why you chose checkers specifically, and not one of your other board games," Jane added, neatly turning the conversation back to her. "I'd guess that it's always been your favourite," he admitted. "Or was there another reason?" he asked when, to his amusement, he saw the hint of a triumphant smirk on her face.

Lisbon let the smirk bloom into a genuine smile for a moment. "Well," she told him. "Some games I discounted right away for various reasons. Too complicated, too much work, too long…"

"So no Monopoly then?" Jane supplied.

"No," she agreed. "Then there are the games that you have an obvious advantage at."

"Given that I can read body language for a living, I have an obvious advantage in pretty much any gave that's not entirely based on chance," Jane couldn't help pointing out.

Lisbon rolled her eyes. "Some are worse than others though," she told him. "Like Clue I'd imagine. And after seeing you play chess a few weeks ago there was no way I was bringing that one."

"That's a shame," Jane said distractedly. "I think I'd like to play chess with you, Lisbon."

Lisbon's brow crinkled in confusion, "Maybe some other time then," she said finally. "Anyway, I didn't want anything too complicated, but I also didn't want to play Candyland. Nephews," she said, answeringJane's unasked question. "And you're right; I used to play checkers a fair bit. Used to be pretty good actually, so I thought I wouldn't mind playing again."

"Which is really why you picked it," Jane surmised. "You picked a game you're familiar with because you thought it might give you an edge and you might beat me."

"Yeah, pretty much," Lisbon admitted cheerfully.

"You know that when I beat you now, it'll just be all the more irritating for you," Jane told her, sending her his best smile, all charm and confidence.

Lisbon raised her eyebrows, not at all irritated by his arrogance. Probably because she'd expected it, "Who says you're going to beat me?" she asked calmly.

"I would point out that you've already mentioned my excellent chess-playing skills," Jane said smoothly, to needle her a little.

"I don't know how to tell you this Jane, but checkers and chess are different games," Lisbon replied, speaking just a little more slowly, as one instinctively does when one feels they are speaking to someone of significantly lower intelligence. "You do know it's only the board that's the same right?" she asked in the same condescending tone.

"Funny," Jane said lazily, not insulted in the slightest.

"I thought so," Lisbon told him brightly, all traces of condescension gone from her voice.

"You don't think that using the same board conveys a degree of similarity on the two games?" Jane asked.

Lisbon shrugged. "Maybe," she admitted. "But I don't think checkers is a game you need to spend years trying to master, unlike chess. Less variety in the way you can move. More straightforward."

Jane shrugged and put on his best poker face. "You've obviously never heard of the great checkers strategists."

Lisbon scoffed. "Because they don't exist," she said dismissively.

"Sure they do," Jane told her. "They came out of the great surge in checkers playing that occured right around the turn of the century."

"No they didn't," Lisbon replied as she compulsively straightened a few of her checkers.

"I'm shocked that you doubt me Lisbon," Jane said innocently, trying to hit just the right amount of 'shock' in his tone.

"I'll bet you are," she muttered, though it was still easily audible.

Jane continued on as if he hadn't heard her. "Well, there's the Rozanski gambit," he mused. "Where you play aggressively on the right side of the board, leaving the left untouched. Or the more commonly used Meyerson stratagem, where you try and creep up the sides as much as possible, so as to give your opponent as few opportunities to jump your man as possible, forcing them to sacrifice players to lure you out. Then there's the Toscano opening…"

Lisbon was smiling widely at this point. "Oh cut the crap Jane," she interrupted. "I know you're making this up."

Jane looked at her, his face almost completely blank. "Am I?" he asked.

"Yeah," she nodded.

"Lisbon, I'll have you know that the opening in question involves moving the checkers near the edge towards the opposite side of the board," he told her, sincerity positively dripping from each syllable.

"You're lying," Lisbon said with a smile and a shake of her head. "I know you are."

"Because you can tell when I do that now?" Jane asked sceptically.

"Yeah," she said again.

Jane didn't like how she said it. Calmly. Like she knew something he didn't. "If you say so," was all he said.

"I know so," she shot back. "Now set up your checkers." Jane obediently began to set out the black pieces on the board. "Toscano opening…" Lisbon muttered in mock exasperation, as she fished the last red checker out of the box and put it in the corner square.

After that their conversation tapered off and they played in silence for a while. Jane found himself watching her hands as she moved the red checkers around the board. Always very deliberate, calm, never rushed. She almost never picked up a checker unless she planned to move it. He wondered if she'd always played like that, or if it was a technique she was employing because she was playing with him and was worried about giving too much away.

She needn't have worried. He wasn't in the mood to get in her head and figure out her strategy down to every last move just to exasperate her. He was enjoying the quiet of her company too much for that. Though he did wonder if he started watching her face instead of her hands, if he actually took the time to really analyze her, would he beat her more often? He wasn't sure. She hadn't been lying before when she'd said she was pretty good at checkers. Truthfully, she was really quite good. Which now that Jane was thinking about it, didn't surprise him in the slightest. Lisbon had always had a knack for strategy and for out-manoeuvring people. Only unlike him, her targets very rarely realized what she'd done. It's what made her so good at the politics of her job (the early days of Hightower's reign at the CBI notwithstanding).

The two of them were evenly matched. Neither one of them won all the time. He'd lost track now of who'd won how many games, or even how many they'd played (though he suspects that if he bothered to ask she could tell him). He doesn't care anyway. He's comforted by watching the board and the checkers moving around it. Anything approaching relaxed has been a novel situation these days; he doesn't want to upset the balance. Instead he thinks about the game itself. It's a game of strategy, but in a way it's almost blessedly uncomplicated. There's only a few different ways you can move, and only a few rules.

What little of Lisbon's strategy Jane has noticed seems to suit her. While he rushes in with a strong offense she lies quietly in wait. More than once she's set him up to force him to jump her pieces so that, when he's done she can jump even more of his. For all that she's done it multiple times now, he never seems to realize until it's too late. Then, all of a sudden he glances down at the board and realizes that while he will be able to capture one of her men, in turn she'll take about three of his. And he knows that if he glances at her face he'll see that pleased little smile he loves so much.

(The one that Jane won't admit he misses when it's gone from his life for too long.)

Sometimes he'll indulge her (and himself), when he realizes what's coming. And he'll meet her eyes and see her smile, his eyes twinkling when her grin turns into a quiet laugh.

Suddenly Lisbon jumped quickly over two of his men. "King me!" she demanded happily.

Jane let out a small groan, but did as she asked. It didn't look like he'll be winning this particular round.

He turned his attention back to the board in front of him. Obviously he needed to plan his next move carefully if he wanted to have even a hope of a comeback.

But was no use. His attention kept wondering.

After a few minutes, Jane went back to watching this quiet manipulator force him into jumping over the men she wanted him to. Oh, he put up a good fight, but in the end she was in charge of this round, not him.

Which was oddly appropriate given what had happened on the most recent case.

Really, couldn't a man decide he wanted to take a case off? A single case, was that too much to ask? He'd promised to help her with the next one. And he needed to start distancing himself from her.

Jane frowned. But if he needed to distance himself then why hadn't he gone farther than the attic of the CBI? He could have left the city if he'd wanted to. And why had he allowed her the chance to try and manipulate him into working the case? He told her he owed her a shot at convincing him, but since when did he, the great Patrick Jane, care about that sort of thing? He bent the rules all the time, whenever he wanted to. Even with her. {Though maybe not at the same frequency as anybody else.) Either way, if he'd been genuinely serious about doing nothing, then willingly giving her the opportunity to change his mind had been pure foolishness.

Jane's hand stilled over the checker he'd been planning on moving.

Had he _wanted_ her to manipulate him? To back him into a corner and force him to work with her? Oh, it was all very well and good to _say _that he needed to distance himself from Teresa Lisbon, that what he was doing he was doing for her own good (and it was for her own good), but he also knew he didn't want to lose her. He didn't want her to go too _far._ Hell, he'd already admitted that sitting here playing checkers of all things was the most relaxed he'd been in weeks.

His fingers tightened around the spiky edges of the checker he still held.

He'd wanted her to chase him. He'd known she would. Well, he'd been pretty sure at least. She was Lisbon, she looked after lost sheep. And he was the epitome of a lost sheep, even if he was a bit of a black one.

He'd kept his distance over the summer while he'd watched as the fire she'd lost over the course of a difficult year had returned, all the while fretting over the timing. Was her renewed energy a result of the lack of a particularly irritating colleague in her personal life, or was it due to the two week vacation Hightower'd basically forced her to take?

Jane didn't like it. Not that Lisbon seemed happier; he was pleased about that. She'd had a truly terrible year and he'd been worried. She deserved to be happy. And while he knew that him disappearing from her life would probably make things easier, he didn't want his absence to also make her more content.

Had he made Lisbon chase him a bit just to feel wanted? He definitely wanted his boss to want him around, wanted to know that he helped her. And Jane was relieved that she apparently did. She'd even taken him aside and yelled at him about being part of a family and how that meant not betraying them. He'd wondered whether she'd been referring to more than one type of betrayal. Still, he was relieved that she'd bothered to show up to check on him late at night. He knew that her visit was as much for him as it was for her, maybe more so.

And it seemed that he'd always wanted her to make him play right into her hands.

Jane glanced down at the checker board, consciously noticing for the first time that the square where he'd been about to place his checker would allow her to force him to jump one of her red checkers, before she jumped another two of his. Smiling to himself Jane placed the checker exactly where he'd always intended to.

Lisbon, having seen his hesitation, met his eyes in obvious confusion that he'd still walked right into her trap. He could see the silent question in them, '_Are you letting me win?'_ Jane shook his head almost involuntarily. He wasn't. It was more complicated than that. Instead he touched her arm gently, the first time he'd touched her since she'd walked into the attic. (He was _very_ careful about touching her now.)

"It's your turn," he said quietly.

He wanted to touch her. He always did. But he didn't really dare. He doesn't think he has that right anymore. He hurt her, pushed her away. And now he can't get close. Not at least until they find out what happened to Kristina Frye. So even though he's feeling more positive emotion right now than he's felt in the past four months, Jane resists the urge to flip up the checkerboard and gather her into his arms. That'll get them nowhere. And still nothing will be defined. Which is what got them into trouble even before Red John.

And he _can'_t define anything right now. Especially not the woman across from him. Any time he tries to define anything it doesn't end well.

Instead he decides to just continue to play, waiting to see if she'll call him out for letting him win, or if she'll understand that he's finally acknowledging to himself what he's been doing.

Lisbon held his eyes for a few seconds. Then she nodded once, and proceeded to set up the inevitable double-jump.

Two moves later, after she'd claimed her two plastic victims, Lisbon spoke. "I used to play checkers with my grandfather," she told him.

Jane's attention shifted sharply from her hands to her face. But she had her face deliberately turned downwards as she pretended to study the board. "Yeah?" he said after a minute. "That must have been nice."

"It was," she agreed. "We always played some when I was younger, but we started to play more when I was twelve."

Jane's hand faltered mid-move. The significance of the year wasn't lost on him.

"My father was starting to…" Lisbon said in a voice that was deceptively calm. Frustrated with herself she broke off and ran a hand through her hair. "Well, we were getting by you know? But we all had to pitch in a lot, me especially since I was the oldest. I guess my grandfather thought it would be good for me to get me out of the house from time to time. So sometimes when my brothers and I were visiting my grandparents, the two of us went to the park and we played checkers. He listened to me talk about how my week had been going, school, my friends. You know, the usual."

Jane grinned, he could see it in his mind's eye. A teenage Teresa Lisbon (and he'd seen a picture once in her apartment so he knew what that looked like) sitting across from an elderly gentleman with interested and kind eyes. He was unbelievably glad that she'd had those moments of calm in what had to have otherwise been a fairly awful adolescence. "That's nice Lisbon," he told her..

She shrugged. "I've always found checkers soothing," she said. "Grandpa died when I was twenty-two, only a few years after his only son," she explained. "Playing this game always makes me think of him."

Jane winced. The woman really hadn't been able to catch a break had she? "I'm sorry," he told her sincerely.

"He was well into his eighties at that point," Lisbon replied. Her tone an attempt to be dismissive, to convey that she'd gotten over it, that it hadn't been a big deal. That she'd been used to it after the deaths of her parents, even if her grandfather _had_ been one of the few good people left in her life.

That's when Jane realized what she'd been offering when she'd come to him with her slightly ratty checker box. She'd been offering him an opportunity to share her safe haven, something that had always soothed her when the rest of her life was in chaos. He felt another sudden surge of affection for her and almost before he'd realized it, he'd opened his mouth.

"I learned to play checkers at the State Fair grounds," he told her, pleased when the slightly wistful look on her face changed to an interested smile. "Talk about your learning curve," he remarked. "I used to win a bit. Then the old timer's stopped toying with me," he admitted.

"Then what happened?" Lisbon asked.

"I got my ass handed to me on a plate," Jane said cheerfully.

She chuckled.

"Yeah," he said. "That' when I switched to poker," he confided. "More to read on your opponents face in that game. I started spending my evenings at various poker tables. Made some good money too. The carnies caught on pretty quick and I was warned away with some not-so-subtle threats. That's when I turned to the locals. Course, they always threatened me too, but we moved on so quickly that it didn't matter. And I've always been better at cards then most board games."

"I'm not surprised," Lisbon said dryly.

"Yeah, my Dad didn't like it so much," Jane admitted. "Said it made some of the potential customers mad. 'Course my Dad didn't like a lot of what I did 'round that time. Guess it was okay for me to fleece our _customers_ for money, as long as it was done in a way where he got the lions share," Jane said bitterly. "To be fair I did get myself into a sticky situation or two." The consultant frowned. He hadn't meant to tell her that. He also hadn't meant to share any information about his previous life. Lisbon knew about his father already, bits and pieces at least. But she didn't need to hear about his less than scrupulous early-adulthood. DIdn't need more reason to think poorly of him. She never seemed to judge, but it was always a concern. Why had he told her? He almost laughed at the question.

Because it was Lisbon. She had a way of making him talk to her before he even realized what was happening. Because like her strategy at checkers, this was Lisbon's way. Forcing him to play her game, but subtly, so he doesn't know he was doing it. She probably didn't realize what she was doing half the time either. By the time either of them caught on it was always too late. She'd already forced him to interact with her, up in his previously lonely attic.

And as was often the case where she was concerned, he was her more-than-willing pawn.

"I wonder if anyone manages to make it through their adolescence on good terms with their parents," Lisbon mused.

Jane shrugged. "We could ask Van Pelt," he suggested. "She seems to get along well with her father."

"I'll leave you to do that," Lisbon told him. "You can get back to me."

"Okay," he agreed.

Then Lisbon frowned, something obviously just occurring to her. "If you don't like checkers then why didn't you say so before?" she demanded. "We've been playing for over an hour Jane," Lisbon exclaimed after glancing at her watch. "Just because I came up here wanting to play didn't mean…"

Jane could hear the distress in her voice. He reached out and linked his fingers around her wrist almost without realizing. "You didn't," he assured her.

"You don't have to feel obligated," she started to tell him.

But Jane shook his head and interrupted her a second time. "I didn't sit here and play checkers with you for over an hour because I felt obligated, Lisbon," he said in exasperation.

"Then why?" she asked.

"Because you wanted to," he replied quietly.

"I know _I_ wanted to!" she snapped. "That's exactly my point."

"No," Jane said gripping her wrist more tightly, causing her to meet his eyes. "I played because you…" _Because you came and found me. Because I wanted to spend time with you,_ he thought to himself_._ Why couldn't he say it though? Instead he looked desperately into her eyes and ran his fingers back and forth across her pulse.

He saw the change in her eyes the second she realized what he was getting at. The surprise came first, then the surge of affection, followed by the slightest hint of regret.

Jane sent her a wry smile. "I may even be re-thinking my opinion of checkers," he admitted finally.

"Really?" she asked, clearly hopeful.

"It has a calming effect," he explained

"Okay," she said with a soft smile.

Jane nodded, well aware (as she was now), that this wouldn't be the last game of the evening. "I'm hungry," he said suddenly. "You?"

Lisbon glanced at him in surprise. "You brought snacks up here?" she wondered, her amusement obvious.

"Of course," he told her. "I have chocolate bars in case of emergency."

"Ooh, do you have Crispy Crunch?" she asked excitedly.

Jane nodded, expecting the question. "Yup," he said as grabbed a Crispy Crunch and a Mars bar from his secret stash. He also nearly banged his against a nearby bookshelf. He didn't even _like_ Crispy Crunch. Yet he stocked his garret with Lisbon's favourite chocolate bar.

Why?

Because he'd known she'd find her way up here eventually. And when she did he'd wanted her to stay.

How exactly had he managed to delude himself for this long was a mystery. He'd stocked the attic with her favourite snacks _weeks_ ago. It was an easy thing to do. He knew a lot of things about Lisbon after all.

He'd learned a lot during their period of… closeness.

Jane wondered how the two of them managed to skip right past friendship. He knew enough facts about her to be considered her friend. More than enough really. But he keeps the things he knows about her arranged in his head like they're a grocery list of information not a picture of a person. Why doesn't he put them together? If he ever wanted to pursue any kind of a relationship with her, even a friendship (which he _doesn't_ want to do because of Red John), then it seems to him that that would be the way to go about it. Lisbon doesn't trust easily, not even him. So start with a genuine friendship then go from there. Not keep everything he knows about her in separate lists and boxes so as to keep his distance.

Although, he was becoming more and more sure she wouldn't let him push her away. He didn't even know if he'd let himself do that. Not two minutes ago he'd accidentally make her think that she'd forced herself in somewhere she wasn't wanted. Instead of capitalizing on that he'd hastened to assure her that the opposite was true.

He was hopeless.

Jane took a breath. "Lisbon?"

"Hm?"

"Can we at least finish this one game before you go?" Jane asked.

"Sure," Lisbon agreed with an audible sigh of relief.

Jane grinned and turned back to the board, well aware that despite what he'd said, this wouldn't be their last game of the evening. After all, he was sure when they were done one of them would point out that _one more_ game wouldn't hurt. Eventually they'd both give up the pretence and just play as long as they wanted.

He also knew that one of them would somehow make sure that checkers in the attic became a regular thing. Probably Lisbon, she seemed to be better at that kind of manipulation. Though if she ran out of ideas Jane was sure he could come up with something ridiculous (and probably mildly disruptive) that would have the same effect.

It might be fun.

Jane started watching Lisbon's hands move across the board, as calm and steady as ever. When he glanced at her face he saw the slightest hint of a grin.

And why not? Lisbon'd altered the scene on the top floor of the CBI for the evening, just as she'd wanted to. A lonely soul moping in a garret gave way to two friends playing checkers in an attic.

As Jane moved yet another black checker diagonally along the board he wondered just how long he'd been craving her company.

He could only hope that part of her was still craving his.

xxxxx

The End

xxxxx

Not sure what ep will get the next post-ep. Like I said, I am planning a bit of an arc though.


	2. Post 302 Family, Extended and Unexpected

A/N: Well, here we go. The 3.02 post-ep. Seriously guys, 3.02, shippiest episode of the show for me. Because I am strange. I'm not sure exactly what I think about this one. It feels almost erratic, in a way, uncontrolled. It's certainly not exactly what I was going for, but I'm also not sure how to change it. Hope it's alright.

xxxxx

Family, extended and unexpected

xxxxx

Patrick Jane parted from his criminally-minded, though happily non-murderous, brother-in-law at the edge of the cemetery. Danny drove off to flee fraud charges, Jane himself to brood over his family's deaths. Not because he wanted to exactly, but because it was inevitable. He didn't actually need another reminder obviously, and the graves of the two women he'd loved certainly didn't make him feel closer to them. But being confronted by the headstones for the first time in years inevitably conjured up even sharper feelings of guilt and inadequacy.

He was relieved to leave the cemetery, and was secretly happy that its sombre atmosphere combined with a conman's inadequacy at expressing genuine emotion allowed him to escape another tête-à-tête with the man who was the closest thing to a little brother Jane had ever had. He and Danny may have reached an unspoken understanding in the end, but Jane wasn't quite up to more conversation. Not even after Danny tried to make him feel better by reminding him that men like the two of them, master con-men raised in a world apart, shouldn't feel guilt.

Only one problem with that theory though. His wife, the very woman whose death he felt guilty over, hadn't wanted him to be that type of man. The two of them _had_ tried to flee that life. Unfortunately the cons had clung to him so hard that not even she could shake them off in the end. It wasn't something Danny would understand, even if he ever bothered to open up his ears wide enough to let Jane tell him about it.

Instead Jane watched Danny drive off to disappear back into the underworld. Then it was time to wend his own way back to the CBI building, where he got to play the clever fox trying to camouflage himself in amongst all the loyal protective sheepdogs, similar in some ways, but never quite the same. He passed the bullpen quickly, not wanting to attract attention, and headed straight up the attic stairs. He needed to think.

Jane tried to turn his attention to the details of the all-too-familiar Red John case, hoping to use the images of his family's graves to spur him on. But memories of the events of the past few days kept taking precedence in his mind. Racing with Lisbon to see who could finding Danny first, abandoning Lisbon with Pete and the elephant, finding the body in the dark office-building, the many times Lisbon'd caught up with him (or nearly caught up with him), his fake death, having to put Danny's fate into her hands in the end...

Lisbon certainly hadn't let him down there either. She'd stuck to her side of the deal to the letter. Actually, she hadn't just helped clear Danny of murder; she'd turned the other way on the fraud charges as well. He'd just assumed Dan could get off on those. The grounds were weak anyway. But as soon as Lisbon'd started speaking Jane'd known what she was up to. She was going to let Danny walk away. For some reason Jane wasn't surprised. But then the question became, why wasn't he? Why _had_ she let Danny go so readily?

She was the cop after all. They were both always verbally making that distinction clear. "Oh, I'm not a cop." "He's just a consultant." "No one is calling you a hero." She was the one who tackled and handcuffed suspects, who cared about the law. She was the one who lived by that code. But she let Danny walk away. Had he secretly always known that she would?

But more to the point, why _had_ she let Danny go? Danny was nothing to Lisbon, and she was already out of favour with Detective Reese, and the rest of the Sacramento PD. Sure she didn't actually _need_ to, but she was the one who was always saying they needed to cooperate with local authorities. Why not get back some good-will by turning Dan over to them? Besides, Danny was hardly likely to walk the straight and narrow from now on. He was almost certain to re-offend. Lisbon knew that. Part of Jane's brain suggested it was for him. But Lisbon didn't need to do that sort of thing for _him_. Forget Danny's relationship with Lisbon, what was _Jane_ to her really anymore?

Her teammate, maybe a friend, former lover, (though who knows what that meant). He was a man who'd lied to her more than once, who was still lying to her. He'd saved her life sure, but she'd saved his way more times. She owed him nothing. He almost certainly owed _her_ on any type of balance sheet imaginable.

Yet Danny had walked out of that house without even a hint of a hindrance.

Why?

Jane sat up suddenly. The question was gnawing at him now. There was only one way to unravel it. And it couldn't be done alone in the attic.

He wondered if Lisbon was still in her office. It wasn't that late. It was certainly possible.

Jane wandered downstairs past the rest of the SCU bullpen where only Van Pelt sat, finishing up some report or other. He didn't disturb her, heading directly towards his real target.

He was slightly surprised to see all the lights were off and the blinds were closed in Lisbon's office. It seemed the team leader had gone home for the night at something approaching a reasonable hour. So much for sharing a cup of tea with Lisbon on her couch while he teased out of her why she' d let his brother-in-law flee so easily.

Jane frowned. He realized he'd actually been looking forward to that, for several reasons. He supposed he could always see if she was at home (and where else would she be at this hour if she wasn't at the office?). But that got... complicated. Sure, he and Lisbon were still friends. He'd already considered the benefits of cultivating a real friendship with her. He'd also already spent the odd evening on her couch, even since the dissolution of their previous... understanding. But it was always a bit awkward. It was _different_, not uncomfortable exactly, but strange. Like there was something out of place.

And when he did end up outside her door it was usually for a better reason than, "Want to have a cup of tea?"

He was sure she'd let him in; what he wasn't sure of, was what it meant.

Jane shook his head slightly. But why should it be complicated? She popped up to the attic to chat about personal-ish things from time to time. Why couldn't he drop by her house just to talk? She was always trying to get him to talk. She might even like it.

Knowing her she was probably already worried about him anyway. This might ease her mind a little.

His resolution made, Jane slipped from the building without a backwards glance, afraid that if he paused for a moment he might change his mind and skulk back up to his attic to hide.

xxxxx

Despite his utter confidence that Lisbon _would_ let him into her home, Jane was still vaguely nervous as he knocked on the door (though he couldn't have said exactly why). He'd come here before, when he was desperate for human contact. But this felt different. He wasn't coming because he was he'd become temporarily disgusted with lying alone in an attic or because he was frustrated over Red John.

He'd come because he wanted to have tea with a friend. He did want to ask her something, but he also wanted tea. He was even armed with cookies. Shortbread, which always seemed to go particularly well with tea. Lisbon liked shortbread; he liked tea. It was perfect.

Before he could think too hard about anything else her door opened and he was faced with Lisbon herself. She looked confused but also a bit relieved by his presence. He'd been right, she _had _been worried.

"Jane?" she asked. "What are you doing here?"

Jane smiled a lazy smile, pleased that her tone was more surprised and amused than accusatory. "I thought you might like some shortbread," he told her, holding up the bag. "And I thought I'd come see how you were doing," he added.

Lisbon tilted her head in mild confusion. "You thought you'd come see how _I _was doing?" she asked dryly, her tone pointing out the absurdity of the statement given the details of their last case.

Jane froze momentarily. For some reason he hadn't quite expected to be called on his excuses, hadn't expected her to, however indirectly, point out that if he was showing up at her door for the reason he said, it was a _change_. He smiled again, but it was a second too late, and they both knew it. The silence needed to be filled quickly, before awkwardness set in. "I can't stop by just to talk?" he asked playfully, determined to turn the conversation at least for a second, from himself.

This time it was Lisbon's turn to hesitate. Then suddenly, she smiled, dipping her head slightly. "Of course," she said. "Come on in."

"Thank you Lisbon," Jane said cheerfully; now that he was actually across the threshold he felt the worst was somehow over. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Lisbon raised an eyebrow and gestured significantly to the black track pants and baggy tee shirt she was wearing.

Jane grinned and nodded, acknowledging the point. "Thought I'd better at least check," he admitted. "Out of politeness if nothing else."

"Because you're always one to observe the social niceties?" she asked.

"I'm as capable of observing foolish social morays as anyone else," Jane reminded her.

"But you often don't," Lisbon retorted. "Making people suspect an ulterior motive when you do."

"Just have a cookie, woman," he said, his tone amused. "I don't suppose you have any tea to go with it," he added casually.

Lisbon huffed, but did take a cookie. "Ah, the real reason for your visit comes to light."

"Yes Lisbon," Jane said sarcastically. "I dropped by expressly to con you out of a cup of tea. because I couldn't get it anywhere else. Not at one of the two hundred coffee places I passed on my way here, not in the break room of the CBI where I came from, not even in my own house."

"I thought so," Lisbon said with a grin.

"Does that mean you're going to give me tea then?" Jane asked.

As if on cue Lisbon's kettle whistled.

"Well, that's a little creepy," Jane said after a brief pause.

Lisbon rolled her eyes and padded across her kitchen. "I wanted a hot drink myself, and was actually just making tea before you dropped by," she explained. "Chamomile okay?" she asked. "I don't think caffeine at this hour is such a good idea, at least not for me. I'll never get to sleep."

"Chamomile would be lovely, Lisbon," Jane assured her.

Lisbon sent him another smile before turning to prepare the tea. She wondered why Jane was really sitting in her apartment that evening. Oh, she was sure part of it was because he just wanted to talk; someone like Patrick Jane who was used to being the centre of attention must get awfully sick of sitting alone in an attic. But Lisbon was also sure that a desire for company and conversation wasn't the only reason he was here. She'd have to be an idiot to think that it was. And he'd paused when she'd called him on it, even though she'd done it playfully.

Besides, his brother-in-law had just been cleared of a murder charge.

The last few days had been full of constant reminders of her consultant's old life, old friends at the carnival, old issues with Danny, fresh guilt over his wife. Lisbon knew she didn't know the half of it. She wasn't sure that she wanted to. All that she knew for sure was that, now that the case was closed, she was no longer the adversary in trying to find Danny, no longer being avoided by her consultant, no longer 'Pepper' to be abandoned at the circus at will. She was Lisbon again, friend, boss, maybe one of the few people Jane trusted a little, even if she couldn't hope to ever rise to the status of someone he really considered family.

But maybe that didn't matter. He was in her apartment now.

In the end he'd chosen the new life, not the old. Lisbon supposed she could take some comfort in that. She would have to, were it not for the fact that Red John loomed in the new life. She knew without having to be told that the serial killer was the driving reason that Jane did what he did, not anything else. She'd tried to explain to his old friends, but they hadn't believed her. And why should they? Who would? Not when Jane was so good at putting on a mask.

So why was he here? Did he really want to _talk?_ The idea was surprising. She was unlikely to be given details about the Jane/Ruskin family connections. What snippets she'd heard earlier had already told her more than she'd ever hoped to know.

What then?

Was he looking for... for comfort? And if he was, what _kind_ exactly? She was terrible at refusing Jane, but she was getting better. Especially when it was for his own good, or even for hers. She couldn't afford to take a step backwards now. Besides, falling into old patterns tonight wouldn't help anybody.

Not when things were as undefined between the two of them as they'd ever been. She'd offer her friendship, her support, as she always did. But she couldn't go any further, even if she... even if he...

Well. It didn't matter. It wasn't a viable option right now. Maybe not ever again.

Instead she decided to keep things light as she carried a pair of cups over to the couch, and handed him one before sitting in the chair opposite him. "I suppose I should be flattered," Lisbon told him with a grin, amused when Jane looked at her in mild confusion. "You don't come down from that attic for just anyone," she explained.

Jane shook his head slightly. "I'm not _that bad_, Lisbon," he assured her, though he was beginning to wonder if maybe it was. "Don't let it worry you."

"You're half-living in the attic of the building where you _work_, Jane," Lisbon exclaimed. "_Of course_ I'm worried."

"Is that why you're always coming up to visit me then?" Jane asked.

Lisbon frowned briefly. That question _wasn't _light, for all that his tone was. That sounded like he was fishing. The only question was, why and what for exactly? Lisbon shook herself and answered him, "I told you, sometimes I feel like playing board games."

"Of course," Jane replied.

"And everyone needs a break," she continued.

"Naturally."

"Plus, you have good chocolate up there," Lisbon finished. "Rigsby'd be up there in a second if he knew."

Jane smirked. They both knew that he kept the chocolate up in the attic for her alone. And if Rigsby ever did venture up, Jane would never offer the man any of Lisbon's favourites. The consultant took a sip of his tea, watching her over the rim of the cup. She seemed almost nervous. Well, maybe not quite nervous, but not quite at ease either. She was probably wondering exactly why he was there, what he expected of her. He didn't expect, or want, anything she wasn't willing to give. He realized that while he'd love answers to a couple of questions, he could content himself with sitting and talking to her over a cup of tea for an hour or so.

On the other hand, if she _was_ willing to talk about Danny...

"It's been a strange case," Jane said after a moment.

Lisbon lowered her tea in surprise. "It has," she agreed, wondering where he was going with this. Because whatever he was leading up to, Lisbon was sure he wasn't making idle conversation. She was probably about to find out exactly why Jane was in her apartment with his shortbread (which unsurprisingly was of the melt-in-your-mouth variety).

"I hadn't ever expected to see Danny again," Jane admitted.

"Why not?" Lisbon asked softly.

He looked at her gently. "You know why," he told her, his tone non-accusatory.

"I can guess," she admitted. "I'm also guessing that you don't want to talk about it." She was surprised he'd told her even that much.

Jane hesitated. Did he want to talk about it? Maybe he did. Just not right now. "Not really," he said. "At least I don't think so." Lisbon was startled by his uncertainty. Maybe she really was wrong about his reasons for being in her living room. She let him continue." Still, it was strange," Jane added. "He looked good."

"Minus the whole murder suspect thing, of course," Lisbon interjected.

Jane smirked, "Ah, but he wasn't guilty. Danny has a knack for getting out of the worst of the trouble he gets himself in," he murmured.

"Family trait," Lisbon remarked.

Jane winced. "Most of the time," he agreed.

Lisbon didn't say anything, knowing all to well what he was thinking.

"Of course," Jane added more cheerfully. "This time he had a little help getting out of a spot of bother."

Lisbon scoffed. "A _little help_?" she asked incredulously. "Jane, without you concealing him we'd have had him in an interrogation room _hours_ earlier."

"Where you'd have never gotten anywhere near the truth out of him," Jane countered, smiling when she didn't object beyond a scowl. "I am sorry about all that Lisbon," he added. "I'm sorry that you got caught in the middle. Again."

Lisbon shrugged. She expected it to a certain extent now. At least this time he had a better excuse than he usually did. "You did what you had to," she remarked. "He's family. I get it." She really did. And Danny Ruskin, a con man and a fraud was always going to be the type of person Jane considered family. That's just the way it was.

Jane frowned. He didn't like something in her tone, though he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was exactly. "I did..." he said slowly. "But Lisbon... I..."

"Don't worry about it Jane," she repeated.

He grabbed her wrist suddenly, searching her eyes.

His concern surprised her. She softened. "It's fine," she told him quietly. "I get it. He's your brother."

"Brother-in-law," Jane muttered, releasing her hand. He wasn't sure what he wanted from her, what he expected to see, or what he expected her to say. He wasn't sure what she thought. And though that bothered him, he wasn't about to ask. It probably wasn't flattering, and hearing her tell him how much she expected him to simply disregard her feelings might just break him tonight.

"Whatever," Lisbon said with a wave of her hand. "A close family member. You did what you felt you had to."

"So why'd you do what _you_ did then?" Jane asked.

Lisbon paused mid-sip of tea. "What?" she asked.

"Let him walk away," Jane clarified. "You let Danny walk away and we both know it. I... I don't understand... You certainly didn't have to. He's not _your_ brother-in-law after all."

"Obviously. I don't have a brother-in-law," Lisbon said dryly. "Nor am I likely to ever have one."

"Then why?" Jane asked tenaciously. "There was nothing in it for you personally. You didn't know him. I know you like giving people the benefit of the doubt, helping people out. But you have to draw the line somewhere. Besides hard as fraud may be to prove, we both know Danny was guilty of it."

"Jane..."

But Jane pressed on. "It's not like he was your fam..." he stopped speaking abruptly. The incompletely spoken _family_ hung in the air between them.

Lisbon shuffled awkwardly in her chair, nibbling on a shortbread cookie as an excuse to occupy her hands (and her mouth).

Once Jane managed to get his mind working again, it started jumping in so many directions at once that he almost couldn't deal with all the questions that arose. Did she think of Danny as some sort of extended family of her own? She'd told him recently that he was part of the CBI family, implying he was part of _her_ family. Did that somehow make Danny family by extension? Because if that was the case, and her little speech about the CBI, and cops being a family _hadn't_ been just for effect, to help drag him out of his recent reclusive tendencies... If she'd genuinely meant that... If he meant that much to her...

Jane's breath caught in his throat.

He stared at her, uncaring what she might see on his face. Lisbon met his eyes briefly before hers flicked to a picture on the bookshelf. Jane followed her gaze. He'd seen the picture before, though he'd never paid all that much attention to it. It was of a young girl, surrounded by three even younger boys, all dark haired, all smiling. Lisbon and her brothers. He jerked subtly in his chair.

He might not know much about Lisbon's relationship with all three of her brothers, but he knew enough. He knew that she'd spent her teenage years protecting them and bailing at least one of them out of trouble. She probably still did from time to time, albeit from much farther away. Had the troubled Danny Ruskin, a man who'd lost his own big sister too early, remind her of the younger Lisbon siblings? Was Danny another mildly troublesome family member who needed rescuing? Did she sympathize with Jane in that respect? Was _that_ why letting Danny go had seemed so second nature to her?

"Lisbon..." he whispered.

She got up quickly. "I need more tea," she said. "Do you want some?"

"Sure," he agreed after a second.

Lisbon nodded, taking a minute by the teapot to collect herself. She walked over with the still half-full pot to fill up his cup.

"Thank you Lisbon," he said, meeting her eyes and holding them.

She nodded quickly. Then she settled back in her chair.

"Will you tell me why?" Jane asked quietly.

She looked up. "Does it matter?" she asked after a moment.

"I think so," Jane said seriously.

Lisbon frowned. "Why?"

Jane searched for the right words, "Because... because I don't understand."

Lisbon rolled her eyes. "And everything should be explained to you," she said sarcastically.

Jane shook his head. He wasn't explaining this well. She was taking it all the wrong way. "Of course not," he assured her. "But I'm curious."

Lisbon raised her eyebrows, "About me?"

"Always," he admitted.

Lisbon scoffed. "Because I intrigue you?" she said dryly.

"You know you do," he told her softly.

"Yes, I'd imagine I'm an interesting study," Lisbon said almost playfully. "Something to keep the great Patrick Jane's mind occupied."

Jane looked up in shock. "No..."

"No?" she smirked. "So, a distraction then? A curiosity?"

"_What?_" he asked, getting lost in the confusion she was causing.

"Or are you fishing for information should this particular need arise again," Lisbon wondered, her frustrations with him making her crueller than she meant to be. "As you said, Danny Ruskin's hardly the type to stay out of trouble. Knowing a sure-fire way to get me onside might prove useful."

"_Stop_," he ordered desperately.

"What?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but the slightest break in her voice gave her away.

"Please just stop," Jane repeated, running a hand through his hair. Then he met her gaze, her eyes harder than he liked. "I would _never..._" he insisted.

"Good god, you _mean_ that," Lisbon said in shock.

He exhaled in relief, "Of course."

She stared at him for a moment before asking more gently, "So if not idle curiosity, why does it matter so much?"

Jane was frustrated now, and his frustration made him incautious. "Because you matter!" he hissed.

Lisbon froze.

Jane figured since he was already in for it he may as well continue. "Why else would it matter that you've done such an obvious personal favour for me, Teresa? Especially one with such an obvious possible cost to yourself?"

"Family," she murmured absently.

"Danny's not your family," he reminded her again.

"You look out for your family, I look out for mine. Is that what you wanted to hear Patrick?" she asked softly.

_Oh yes_, he thought to himself. _Oh yes. _"Teresa..."

"I wasn't about to let you throw away your job," she told him defensively. Especially since it was all he had. He'd even admitted it to her once.

Not quite germane to the point, Jane thought idly, but he let it pass. After all, if he lost the job what would he do with his time? And if he lost the job, he probably lost _her_, the only person he could count on. He lost the one person he could drop in on for tea and cookies. It scared him a little how important that was becoming. "Yeah, Pete mentioned your second visit to the fair," he admitted. "Appreciated the concern for me, but wasn't too pleased about your holding him at gunpoint and handcuffing him to his own truck though."

"I released him afterwards," Lisbon muttered. "And if he'd just _told_ me where I could find you and Danny in the first place..."

"Not likely with that badge at your waist," Jane reminded her.

Lisbon sank back into the chair. "Right, forgot I was the enemy," she muttered.

"You're not the enemy," Jane assured her.

"Sure," she agreed unconvincingly.

"You're not!" he insisted.

"In the end I had to threaten you both at gunpoint!" Lisbon snapped.

"I had to make sure he wasn't guilty first!" Jane shot back.

Lisbon sighed. "I know," she said softly. "I just wish you woulda trusted me even a little first."

"I do trust you," Jane assured her.

"Obviously," she said sarcastically.

"Lisbon..."

"You don't trust anybody," she reminded him.

"I trust you with my life," Jane told her. "I'm just not sure I trust you with Danny's."

"Hm."

Jane sighed. He was going to have to tell her. "And I thought he was probably guilty," he admitted.

"What?" Lisbon asked in surprise. That was unexpected.

"I thought he was guilty," Jane repeated. "Pretty much assumed he was actually. So obviously I couldn't let you find him first. He called me out the blue, first time in years. And I assumed the worst."

"Even though he didn't have any violent priors?" Lisbon wondered.

"Logic doesn't always come into it when family's involved," Jane reminded her.

Lisbon had to give him that one, "That's certainly true."

"Plus I owed him after I got his sister killed," Jane added with an attempt at ease.

Lisbon looked at him in concern. "_Jane..._" she warned gently.

He ignored her, choosing instead to try to explain, "Angie was the only good thing in Danny's life."

She shook her head, refusing to accept his attempted justification of his guilt, "That doesn't mean that you..."

"You're hardly one to preach against protecting the undeserving Lisbon," Jane reminded her, though to her shock his tone was affectionate not judgemental.

"Shut up," she replied almost as affectionately.

"No," he told her with a grin, one she thought she saw reach his eyes for just a moment.

She rolled her own eyes because she knew he'd expect it, was looking for it even. "Course not."

Jane smiled at her. Then he sighed, glanced to the side, and the smile slid slowly off his face. "I him told he should try and forgive me," he said after a moment.

"Maybe he already has," Lisbon suggested tentatively.

Jane sent her a look which told him what he thought of that idea.

Lisbon shrugged. "Hey, you did just get him off a murder charge," she reminded her consultant. "It is possible."

"I suppose," Jane said slowly.

"There you go!" she replied cheerfully.

He glanced at her again, his eyes amused this time. "When did you get so optimistic?"

"One of us has to be," Lisbon told him. "Otherwise this conversation is going to get depressing fast. And I have a feeling it's not going to be you that talks about glasses being half full tonight."

"Maybe next time," Jane promised her.

She nodded.

He played with his cup. Lisbon knew there was something on his mind, but she didn't want to press for fear that he'd just shut down. So she waited, and she had another cookie.

"That's why I told Danny to let go," Jane admitted. "So that he could try and be happy, maybe a little less traumatized. Holding on to anger isn't healthy. It'll destroy him. He needs to let go."

Lisbon bit her tongue just in time.

Jane smirked, knowing what she was thinking. "Hating me is a waste of energy anyway. I'm not worth it."

"Jane..."

"I'm not," her consultant explained. "Far better to devote his energies to something productive."

"Like what?" Lisbon asked almost curiously. Who knew what Jane might suggest to someone as a way to move on from the loss of a loved one?

Jane shrugged. "Well, I suggested finding someone to love," he admitted. "It might make him happier, give him something to live for, maybe even make him less reckless. Though Danny wasn't sure he could ever do that."

Lisbon felt an odd constriction in her chest, and couldn't speak.

"Though of course, Danny's also a bit of a sociopath," Jane added. "So that may be part of it."

"Of course," Lisbon added absently. "Still, it's not a bad idea, to find something that makes it worthwhile to get up in the morning."

Jane sighed. "I might even consider it myself, if I had that luxury," he added jocularly.

"Yeah," Lisbon agreed, her heart beating a touch faster than it should have been.

Jane glanced over in alarm and took her hand. "No," he said desperately. "You, you _can_," he assured her. "You can find someone Lisbon."

She looked at him, with an expression almost amused by his statement. "Sure I can," she said.

Her sarcasm had never been so unwelcome to him. "Who wouldn't want you?" he asked, with a smile.

Her eyes widened. She glanced down at their still-joined hands to hide their expression, squeezed gently, and withdrew, reminding herself _why_ nothing was ever defined with Jane. "Guess I just work too hard," she said finally.

Jane nodded, and ignored the near-perpetual urge to touch her. "And I've got the attention of a serial killer."

Lisbon's lips quirked up into a half-smile. It was the best she could do.

"I'm sorry you got caught in the middle," Jane told her again, not sure exactly what he was referring to, as was more often the case with her.

Lisbon chose to believe he was talking about the situation with Danny. "You said that already," she reminded him.

Jane followed her lead. "I didn't know what to do," he admitted.

"I can understand that," Lisbon repeated.

"I thought you might," Jane admitted in relief. It made him feel better, knowing for sure that she wasn't mad at him. She very rarely was, but it was always something that he liked to check.

"Well, like I said, I've bailed little brothers out of trouble more times than I can count," Lisbon reminded him.

Jane almost laughed, "So we've got that in common then."

Lisbon returned the grin, "Who'd have thought _we'd_ ever find common ground?"

"I'm sure if we really thought about it..." Jane said teasingly.

Lisbon cut him off with a mini-glare, "I was kidding Jane."

"I know," he admitted.

"I've bailed my brothers out more than once, though it was only legal a couple times, and often minor. Individually they were each less trouble than Danny apparently was," Lisbon admitted. "Thank goodness."

"Though you did have three of them," Jane pointed out.

"Yeah," she smirked.

Jane watched her face, saw the nostalgia. "Part of you misses it," he said in surprise.

"I guess I do, in a way," she admitted.

"Explains why your default state is to protect the men in your life," Jane said cheerfully.

"You already knew that," she reminded him.

Jane paused. "You want to talk about it?" he asked gently.

Lisbon shrugged, oddly reminded of the start of their conversation, "I don't know."

"I won't push you if you don't," Jane promised her.

_That_ caught her attention. "What's gotten into you tonight?" she asked in surprise.

"I like talking to you," he told her with a cheerful grin, one that even she could tell wasn't actually masking a lie. Not in the usual way at least.

She grinned, pleased. "Oh."

"So you think of me as a troublesome little brother then?" Jane wondered.

"Not exactly," she admitted.

"Good," Jane said emphatically without thinking.

She froze, suddenly feeling the odd tightness in her chest a second time.

Jane took a breath. "I'd like to think I'm on slightly more equal footing than that," he told her, trying to break the tension.

"You wish," she replied with a shaky laugh.

"Hey!" Jane objected a little too loudly.

But his exaggerated objection brought her back to herself, out of danger. "Someone's sensitive tonight," she told him.

"Someone's taking great pleasure in mocking me," he shot back.

"_Obviously._"

He grinned, "Cruel woman."

She quirked her head to the side, "Maybe."

Jane watched her, assessing.

"Oh just ask whatever you want to ask me," Lisbon finally ordered impatiently.

"Can I come by from time to time with cookies?" He was smiling, but she thought she could detect a hint of nervousness in his eyes, in the way they scanned her face. So Lisbon decided to keep things light.

"In spite of my cruelty?" she wondered.

"Yes," Jane told her. It was always a risk, being this open with her, but deep down she was feeling frustrated and uncertain, and he needed her to know she was valued. That he was a friend.

"I never turn cookies away," Lisbon replied. "Especially ones as good as these."

"Speaking of cruelty... Or maybe that's just gluttony," Jane mused.

Lisbon touched his wrist gently, "You know I'd never turn you away either."

He wanted to take hold of her hand and keep it, but didn't dare. "You're one of a kind Lisbon," he said instead.

"Oh come on," she said, obviously disbelieving.

"You are!" Jane insisted. "Even Pete likes you."

That surprised her. "He does?"

"He heard you let Danny go," Jane explained. Actually, Jane had told his old friends what had happened himself. Figured Pete and Sam deserved the truth. And he didn't want either of them to get the wrong idea about her. It wasn't fair. "Said you were some kind 'a cop. He's even decided to forgive you for handcuffing him by the way."

"That's nice of him," Lisbon sputtered awkwardly.

"You're very likeable," Jane assured her.

She didn't quite know what to say to that. "Well..."

"Yeah," Jane agreed. "Seems you managed to convince him you cared about yours truly."

Lisbon winced, "I..."

"Though did you really have to mention that this job was all I had?" Jane asked in mock-irritation that had a hint of truth in it "I'd already told Sam I was fine."

"You're not fine," Lisbon reminded him.

"Yeah, well now they're worried," Jane said petulantly. "It's annoying."

Lisbon grinned. He really was a child sometimes. "People worry when they care," she explained a little patronizingly.

"It's less annoying when you do it," Jane muttered.

"What?" Lisbon asked, wondering if Jane had put something in his own tea. He was being oddly... forthcoming.

"I don't know why," Jane continued as if she hadn't interrupted. "But it is. Maybe I'm just used to it. Even if I think you shouldn't. Worry that is."

"I'm glad you've come to terms with my concern, at least in your way," Lisbon told him. "But Jane?"

"Yeah?"

"You ever drive away and abandon me on my own again, I'll kick your ass into next week," she promised. They'd had enough of a heart to heart that evening. She had a feeling neither of them could take much more.

"Duly noted," Jane told her with a smirk.

"So..."

"So!" Jane said brightly.

"Have you relieved your curiosity for the evening then?" Lisbon asked, after a slight pause.

"Believe it or not Lisbon," Jane told her. "I didn't come over simply to interrogate you, as you seem to often think."

"Really?" she asked.

"Really," he promised.

"Then why did you come over," she wondered.

He rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands, grinning. "Simple idle conversation," he told her.

"You're not serious," she said.

"Why not?" Jane asked. "What could be more natural than chatting with a friend over tea and cookies?" he wondered. "People seem to do it all the time in novels."

"Yeah, novels set at least a hundred years ago!" Lisbon replied.

"Oh that's not true," Jane said with a wave of his hand. "And even if it was, doesn't mean it's a bad idea."

"I suppose not," Lisbon said grudgingly.

Jane smirked. "So?"

"So?" Lisbon repeated.

Jane raised an eyebrow in expectation.

Lisbon sighed, realizing that he expected her to start. Then she smirked. "So," she said slowly. "Seen any good movies lately?"

Jane let out a huff of laughter and let his chin drop to his chest. When he raised it a moment later Lisbon could see his eyes were twinkling. "You know I haven't," he accused. "But well played m'dear."

Lisbon settled back into her chair, "What about books then?" she wondered.

"I'm not discussing whatever manual on techniques of good leadership you have on your bedside table, Lisbon," Jane warned her.

She smirked. "Worried you might start taking a hint?" she taunted. When he started to object she continued. "Fiction only," she promised.

"Fine," Jane said as he settled back onto her couch. He needed to get comfortable after all. He didn't think he'd be leaving for a while.

xxxxxx

Jane's premonition was right. An hour (and another pot of tea) later the two of them were still in Lisbon's living room, the cookies almost gone.

Lisbon was listening to Jane finish up a story about the time he and Pete had almost gotten themselves arrested in San Diego when she raised a hand to subtly stifle a yawn.

Jane noticed anyway. "Bedtime," he said softly.

"I am a little tired," she admitted.

Jane nodded. "Then you should get your sleep."

Lisbon stood, stretched, and carried the teapot to the kitchen. "You wanna stay?" she called over her shoulder.

"Do you mind?" Jane asked from his place on her couch.

She glared at him.

He let out an almost inaudible breath in relief. "Thank you."

Lisbon walked over to her closet and tossed him a pillow.

"This is new," Jane mentioned absently as he caught it.

"Yeah, it is," she agreed sarcastically.

Jane instinctively tightened his grip on the pillow. She'd bought it for him. She'd bought it specifically for _him_. He watched her for a moment. She always seemed to be able to show him he mattered to her, but he never seemed able to reciprocate. Not in the way he wanted to at least. She didn't seem to see that she was the only one in the world that he would have trusted to help him with Danny. Anyone else he would have flat out run from. But not Lisbon. Not forever at least. And she needed to know that. She... she just did. "You're second," he blurted out.

"What?" Lisbon asked in confusion.

"After Danny," Jane explained. "You're second."

She was staring at him now, comprehension dawning. "Jane..."

"I want you to know that," he told her.

She stood frozen in her kitchen for a second longer. "I'm here if you need me," she said eventually.

"Okay," he said.

With one last smile she went upstairs.

Jane watched her go, ever the protective big sister. The woman who would protect those she considered family with her last breath.

He guessed maybe Danny was fated to always be saved by big sisters. Even if they weren't always his own.

She was something else. Maybe Danny would find a Lisbon of his own one day. Jane hoped so. She was exactly the type of woman who might be able to help him forget his anger. Help him find forgiveness. Someone like Lisbon would certainly have the strength necessary for the job. And if someone like Lisbon could teach Danny to forgive his brother in law, maybe one day someone like Lisbon could teach...

Jane lay down on his pillow. The one she'd bought him. She deserved a little happiness of her own. She deserved someone who would devote his life to making her happy, who...

Blind fury welled up inside him.

He'd kill Red John when he found him.

The bastard was hurting big sisters, and leaving those who cared for them feeling ineffectual and guilty.

xxxxxx

The End


	3. Post 303:  Deception Detection

A/N: Alright, here it is. Post-ep to 3.03. Probably one of the angstier ones of the entire series. I hope so at least. Because gah. It's angsty. I'm giving you fair warning now. Well, at least I think it's angsty, enough that while writing it I was getting the urge to read, then write fluff. Just to make myself feel better. But as I said, I'm thinking the ones after this will get better. So please stick with me here.

Written for the Jello-Forever November challenge, truth and lies.

As always, feedback is appreciated.

xxxxx

Post 3.03: Deception Detection

xxxxx

The new case makes it easier to lie.

Or maybe the new case makes it easier to pretend.

The fact that the two of them are both busy trying to solve a double homicide in San Diego means that it's hard to have a heart to heart. Not impossible of course, but hard, hard enough. So Lisbon hasn't been able to talk to Jane about what he's thinking. She tells herself that the delay can't be helped. That she doesn't like that the conversation has to be put off, that he probably wouldn't tell her anything anyway. The last one might be true, but everything else she's told herself is a lie.

The truth is that she doesn't want to know how Jane is. Or rather, she _does_, but she doesn't want to talk to him about it.

She wants him to be okay. She wants him to try and work through things instead of just burying everything deep, adding further to his already massive pile of guilt and anger, bitterness and self-loathing. But just this once she doesn't want to be the one who checks up on him.

She doesn't want to have to tell him that what happened to Kristina Frye isn't his fault. That there was nothing he could have done. That they're going to get the so-called-medium help. That in time Kristina might be fine again.

She doesn't want to have to witness his concern for the other woman.

Not directly at least.

She almost hates herself for it, but it's true. She doesn't want to have to pretend that it doesn't matter; and she will have to pretend that it doesn't matter. Anything else is unthinkable.

But Lisbon still doesn't want to hear Jane's voice break ever so slightly, to see him turn to the side and smile that broken smile, the one he only uses when something matters to him. She doesn't want to deal with that. She doesn't want to hear him imply that what happened to Kristina happened in part because he asked her out for coffee. Because then Lisbon won't be thinking of Kristina as the victim. She'll be thinking of her as the woman who actually managed to knock Jane far enough off his game, make him interested enough, that he decided to ask her, Kristina Frye, out on a date.

Lisbon can't help wondering how he did it. Was he confident and suave, all put together? She somehow doubts it. No, she thinks he fumbled endearingly. She thinks he was awkward, almost schoolboyish. If there's one thing she's noticed, it's that Jane's never quite so smooth when things really matter to him.

Lisbon bets Kristina made him flustered.

The idea makes her scowl.

Completely irrationally obviously. It's irrelevant now. She and Jane are nothing. Well, not _nothing._ They're colleagues, close colleagues. And no one did anything wrong. Not even Jane. Still, even ignoring the obvious mental issues now muddying the waters, Kristina's place in Jane's life is becoming more and more irrelevant to Lisbon by the day. She'd hate herself for her letting her own stupid feelings get in the way, for their potential unprofessionalism, if any of it ever affected the job at all. It hasn't really. Trust her for that at least.

She'd tried to convince herself that Kristina's case didn't have anything to do with her current behaviour, that the fact that Frye and Jane had dinner one evening was nothing to her. She'd gotten pretty good at maintaining that little delusion when Frye had been missing. But Lisbon couldn't do it now that the woman had cropped up again. After all, eventually even she got tired of lying to herself.

She'd been telling herself that whatever had been between Jane and herself had just been a lark anyway. Easily discarded. That she didn't miss it. It was better for her pride. Even if it was a load of crap.

Option A, self-delusion wasn't working anymore.

Which left her with option B, hiding from Jane.

Well, not hiding from him completely. Just hiding from in-depth conversation. She allows herself to ask him how he is in the car on the way from the crime scene to the victim's sister's house, on their way out of the morgue, on their way to interview the victim's employer, once in her office, once in the bullpen, every single instance mid-case. Sometimes she accompanies her questions by a hand on his arm, a brush of her fingers across his wrist, a cup of tea. She lets his noncommittal reply fall over her.

She's sure he knows what she's after. She wants him to tell her he's fine. She doesn't want the details. And he _always_ turns the conversation back to the case. As he should. They need to catch a killer. Frye can keep until later.

Not to mention, her "How are you?" is probably a lie in and of itself. She's not really asking him how he is. She's trying to remind him that she cares that he's not alright.

She just can't quite bring herself to say it. For any number of reasons, some his fault, but most her own.

It's not until she's sitting in her office finishing up the paperwork for the case that she realizes something: All the times she asked Jane how he was, he _never_ once said "I'm fine." He always shot her a half smile and changed the subject.

He never lied to her once. He just evaded her questions.

Somehow the distinction strikes her as significant.

xxxxxx

Jane is in his attic.

He's not asleep. Can't turn his mind off enough for that.

Why would Brett Stiles think that Jane would come to him for advice on Kristina Frye's disappearance? Why would the guru think that _Jane_ would think he had any information about Red John? The head of visualize had been the one to bring up the serial killer. Was the man just so arrogant, so full of his own importance that he actually believed he was all-knowing? And so everyone else must consider him so?

Or did he actually know something?

If Brett _didn't_ know anything, why had he gone to Jakarta? Especially if he would (supposedly) help Jane catch Red John, if he could?

Why avoid being questioned by the police if he wasn't involved? Especially if gurus must only speak the truth?

The truth.

Hah.

Jane wonders how often Brett Stiles actually speaks any kind of truth, beyond a truth he believes himself. The man said things that _sounded_ like the truth, but the distinction is important.

But then again, it's not like Jane's in any position to throw stones. He's not exactly known for his honesty.

Though he thinks he's been doing pretty well on that front lately, for all the good it's done him.

He told Kristina the truth. Told her that she wasn't dead, pointed the obvious out to her. She didn't believe him. She was still caught in whatever trap Red John convinced her was the truth. And Jane doesn't know how to break it. He's not good enough to break it.

He told Lisbon the truth. Well, at the very least he hasn't lied to her. He didn't lie to her when she asked who Red John was playing a game with, he didn't lie to her when she asked why he didn't want to work on the Frye case and he didn't lie to her the many times she asked him how he was doing. He didn't tell the truth either obviously, but he didn't lie.

He knows she's confused, and he's sorry about that. But he doesn't know what to do.

He's not sure the best way to keep her safe.

He keeps going over and over this in his head. And there's no way this ends well for her. He'd try to make her go away, but he's not so sure she'd go. Besides, he _needs _her. He needs her help to catch Red John. When Stiles handed him an address on a plane white piece of paper Jane didn't hesitate before calling Lisbon. After all, look what nearly happened last time he didn't.

It isn't his goal to end up dead. Not unless he can guarantee Red John dies too.

But he doesn't want her to die. And he doesn't want to explain that to her. So he's hiding.

He knows it's only a temporary reprieve. That now that the welcome distraction of a new case is gone he'll have to face her. He'll have to talk to her. If she doesn't seek him out first he'll find her eventually. Even in his current mood he can't lie to himself and pretend that he'll be able to stay away for her benefit.

He certainly hasn't been able to so far.

So he evades to buy himself time. He hides behind the lies that neither of them believe. But it's only a temporary solution.

They're both lying. He knows what he's lying about. And he knows she's lying too. He can see it in the way her eyes shift back and forth whenever she brings up Kristina, whenever she brings up his shaky mental state. He wishes he knew why Lisbon thought she had to lie to him. But more importantly, he wishes knew what she was lying about.

He's sure it's a lie around a formality, for politeness' sake, or for tact, or, knowing her, professionalism. But he can't quite place the source.

It's probably on par with his evasion. The perpetually implied, but always unsaid _I'm fine Lisbon._ He wonders if that evens counts as a lie if they both know he's doing it.

He wishes he could read her perfectly, no uncertainties, just truth.

Sometimes he even wishes she could read him too.

Then she'd know all the things that he can't bring himself to say out loud.

Because for all that they talk to each other, neither of them tends to say what they're thinking.

xxxxx

She's outside the door of the attic with two cups of tea less than two hours later.

She can't help herself. She's worried. She's always worried.

Though she hates that she hesitates outside the door before going in. After all, the possibility that Red John may cause Jane to fall apart once and for all is more important than any of her foolish issues.

"Knock, knock," she says as she opens the door. "Mind if I come in?" she asks. She feels the need to ask before invading his areas, both his attic, and to a lesser extent his couch.

He turns towards her, a hint of a smile on his face. "Of course," he says immediately. "What're you still doing here?" he wonders.

She shrugs, "Paperwork," she says easily. "And I wanted to check on you," she admits. "I noticed that you were still here, so I thought I'd drop by on my way out. Tea?"

He grins before he can help himself. "Yeah," he says. "Thanks."

She sits down across from him. Settles in, pretends to be perfectly at ease. "So," she says after a moment.

"So," he repeats, knowing what's coming.

Lisbon almost rolls her eyes. "How're you doing?" she asks.

"I'm fine," he replies.

For some reason she winces at the admission. It confuses him. "No you're not," she counters softly. "I know you're not."

"Do you?" he asks sarcastically.

Lisbon nods. "The Meyers case came up so soon," she explains. "We never got to check in after we found Kristina Frye."

"Why would we need to check in after that?" he asks, his inflection crueller than he intends it to be. But it's too late now.

The only external indication that Lisbon is bothered is the slight pause before she speaks again. "Frye was put in a facility," she tells him. "The doctors are optimistic that in time she might..."

"Regain her sanity?" Jane supplies.

"Jane..."

"Well how else would you phrase it Lisbon?" he asks. "Would you go for the euphemism? Suggest that she might 'wake up'? She's not asleep Teresa."

Her first name comes as almost a slap in the face. But she stubbornly holds her ground, even though all she wants to do now is run and hide, lick her wounds in private. She knows he's only angry because he cared, no cares, about the other woman. "No," Lisbon admits. "She's not asleep, but it's not a bad comparison."

"She's caught in a delusion," Jane says. "One that Red John trapped her in."

"That's not your fault, Jane," Lisbon whispers.

"Lisbon," he says in resignation.

"It's not," she insists.

"Don't you ever get sick of that?" he asks. "Giving me pep talks?"

"Nope," she says cheerfully "I enjoy the feeling of superiority over you that it gives me."

"Ah."

She examines him closely. Despite the attempt at humour he still looks broken. "It's not your fault," she repeats. "But it's okay to worry."

Jane is confused. Why is she telling him that? "What?"

Lisbon takes a breath before just ploughing forward. Apparently she's a sucker for punishment. "It's okay to worry," she repeats. "I know you feel responsible, and that I probably won't be able to talk you out of it. It's fine. You cared about Kristina," she says gently. "Caring about people is good Jane," she reminds him. "It's okay; it's a good thing."

"It's obviously not a good thing if it got her targeted," Jane replies.

"You don't know that's what got her targeted," Lisbon counters.

"Lisbon..."

She cuts him off. "The two of you, you were close," she says again. "You were just getting to know each other. You liked her. Her abilities intrigued you... Well, it's okay to regret that now you won't get to find out more about them. Not right now at least. Maybe when she gets better."

Jane stares at her. She's glancing off to the side. He can't tell if it's because she's lying, or because she's just uncomfortable talking about this with him. It has to be the former though, right? She can't really be okay with him asking another woman to dinner when he'd been sleeping with her? He needs to proceed with caution. "I think any chance of Kristina and I getting to know each other better, in any way, has long past."

"She might get better," Lisbon reminds him again.

"Unlikely," Jane replies. "Even if she did..." He pauses, considering. Lisbon can't honestly believe he wanted Kristina, can she? Not really?

"Even if?" Lisbon prompts almost hopefully. She quashes the hope quickly, tells herself that she doesn't care. That she isn't going to think about the implications of the aborted sentence.

Jane doesn't answer right away. He needs to think. He decides it would be better if she believes that. "Even if she did get better," Jane continues. "I don't think seeing her again would be a good idea. Regardless of what I may want."

"Jane," Lisbon says softly, glad that she had the excuse of concern for him to mistake the sadness in her voice. "You can't give up," she tells him, wishing she could offer another form of comfort, but in no state to even consider touching him. "It's only been a couple of days," she reminds him. "Give the doctors time. Try to hope for the best."

"I've given up hoping," he replies hollowly.

"You should go see her," Lisbon says after a painful pause, wishing she could make herself stop talking. "Maybe your presence will help."

"Or maybe I'll reinforce the delusion," Jane says. "After all, if I talk to her 'spirit' she might honestly believe that's all that's left."

"Jane..."

"I don't like hospitals Lisbon."

"I'm sorry. I know this is painful for you."

"It is."

"I know you care." She remembers the pain in his voice as he reminded Kristina about their date. As he pleaded for the woman to speak to him. She'd been unprepared for how much hearing it would hurt.

"Of course I care!" he snaps.

"I'm just trying to help."

"I know."

"I wanted to make sure you were okay, to tell you that it wasn't your fault, that opening up to people is a good thing," she says desperately.

"I know," he admits, feeling terrible about what he's doing to her. "Don't worry about it Lisbon. I don't want you to worry."

"How can I not worry?" she asks rhetorically.

"It's not your job to worry," he reminds her.

But she figures since she's already started this she may as well continue. "Is this why you didn't want in on the case?" she asks.

"I told you why I didn't want to be involved, "Jane reminds her. "Red John was playing a game, and I wasn't sure what it was."

"Okay," she says softly.

"I'm sorry Lisbon," he says after a minute. "I didn't mean to take this out on you."

"It's fine," she tells him again with a wave of her hand.

But it's not fine. He can see that she's hurt, at least a little bit, though he's not a hundred percent sure exactly why. And knowing that pushing her away is a good thing is very different from seeing the effects of that particular strategy on her face. In a spurt of regret he tries to explain. "Lisbon," he says softly. "About Kristina... About the dinner."

"You don't have to explain," she says quickly.

Jane runs a hand through his hair. He should have known she'd be difficult. "Hightower gave me the idea first," he tells her.

"_What?_" Lisbon asks. In her surprise she momentarily forgets her resolution not to let him tell her about this.

"Yeah," Jane says with a laugh devoid of any genuine humour. "She suggested that I should get back in the dating game basically. Put myself out there." And it had been awkward.

"You're not serious?" Lisbon asks again.

"Oh, I'm very serious," Jane says with a hint of a smile. "I was just a shocked as you are. At first I wasn't even sure if she was suggesting I ask Kristina out to dinner or _you_." He remembers that moment of confusion, of panic that Madeleine may have discovered how he feels about his boss. He's so distracted by the memory that he doesn't realize how very wrong that was to say until it's too late.

"Well, _obviously_ she didn't mean me," Lisbon says scathingly. "Why on _earth_ would Hightower suggest that you ask _me_ out to dinner?"

Jane stares at her, completely aghast. "_What?_ Teresa, NO. That wasn't what I... I _thought_ she might mean you. It's not ludicrous at all."

Lisbon forces herself to calm down, angry at herself for showing even one of her cards to him. "Probably best that she didn't," she remarks with forced lightness.

"Exactly," he says in relief.

"And I can see why she'd suggest Frye," Lisbon adds casually. "After all, the two of you have a lot in common."

"What?" He's lost control of the conversation again, and he isn't sure exactly how.

"Oh come on Jane," she says patronizingly, like it's obvious. "I saw the two of you together," Lisbon reminds him with a smirk. "She gets to you. You were fascinated by her that last case. And you like the challenge of figuring people out. I get it. You need a bit of variety from time to time. It's fine. Liking the company of people with similar skill sets is normal. I understand."

Jane stares at her. Does she honestly not care? After the past week he's already off his game. This conversation isn't helping. He can't tell what she's thinking at all. He wants to believe that she's lying that she isn't as okay as she's implying. Actually, that's probably an understatement. But he's not sure that isn't just him projecting his own wishes. She probably really is fine. "We were too alike to ever be really good friends," Jane says instead.

Lisbon rolls her eyes. "Because it's been my experience that people with similar tastes never get along," she says sarcastically.

"Lisbon..." he murmurs softly as he reaches for her.

But she pulls her hand out of his quickly. She can't deal with Jane looking at her like she matters right now. She just can't. "It's okay," she says with a grin. She stands up under the guise of stretching her legs. "Having friends is good Jane."

"I know," he says softly, feeling almost physically ill at her retreat. "I have you?" he asks desperately.

Lisbon turns back to him in shock. "Of course. I'll always be around if you need me," she assures him.

Jane exhales in relief. "I know," he says.

Lisbon suddenly feels the urge to either burst into tears or wrap her arms around him, or both. Instead she glances at her watch. "I should get going," she says softly.

Jane shuts down. Of course she wants to leave. Why would she want to be in his company after what he's done? "Right," he agrees. After all, anyone would be sick of his company by now. He wishes he could go to her apartment with her, maybe sleep on her couch. But he's fairly certain she doesn't want him there.

Lisbon nods, knowing he needs to come to terms with his feelings and his guilt where Kristina Frye is concerned. And she can't deal with him on her couch while he does it. Still, she can't leave him like this. "I'll see you tomorrow?" she asks hopefully.

He flinches. Then he stares at her. "I thought tomorrow was your day off."

She shrugs. "Thought I might drop by anyway. Catch up on some paperwork."

He exhales in relief. "What if we just meet for coffee?" he asks.

She sends him a painful smile. "Two o'clock?" she suggests.

"Sure."

"I'll look forward to it," she says.

"Me too," he replies, as he watches her slip out the door.

So she leaves, and he lets her. Both of them wishing they were mind-readers, that they could tell for certain if the other was telling the truth or whether they were lying. (Instead Lisbon settles for going home and drowning her sorrows in chocolate and denial, while Jane settles for shoving his makeshift furniture around the attic in a temper before finally collapsing onto one of the couches.)

Foolishly, it doesn't occur to either of them to just _ask._

The answers would surprise both of them.

x

xxxxx

"_Knock, knock," she says__ as she opened the door. "Mind if I come in?" she asks. She feels the need to ask before invading his areas, both his attic, and to a lesser extent his couch._

_He turns__ towards her, a hint of a smile on his face. "Of course," he says immediately. _[And he means it. He was surprised when she asked to join him on his couch a few days ago. He thought she knew that she never had to ask. She was always welcome where he was concerned. Though it's probably in her best interests to stay away. On the other hand, Lisbon felt like she was intruding. Like she needed to ask because he'd prefer to be left alone.] _"What're you still doing here?" he asks._ [A foolish question, and one he already knows the answer to, but one he asks anyway.]

_She shrug__s, "Paperwork," she says easily. _ [A lie, and they both know it. So she tells the truth.] "And I wanted to check on you," _she admits_ [Truthfully]. _"I noticed that you were still here, so I thought I'd drop by on my way out. Tea?"_

_He grins before he can help himself. "Yeah," he says. "Thanks."_ [He means it. Obviously.]

_She sits down across from him. Settles in, pretends to be perfectly at ease. "So," she says after a moment._

"_So," he repeats, knowing what's coming, _[though he's pretending he doesn't.]

_Lisbon almost rolls her eyes. "How're you doing?" she asks._

"_I'm fine," he replies._ [His first lie of the evening, and they both know it.]

_For some reason she winces at the admission. It confuses him. "No you're not," she counters softly. "I know you're not."_ [The truth. Sometimes blatant honesty's the best way to catch Jane off guard. Lisbon wishes the price wasn't that she often revealed her own hand at the same time.]

"_Do you?" he asks sarcastically._ [Neither truth nor lie, merely an evasion. And a pointless one at that.]

_Lisbon nods__. "The Meyers case came up so soon," she explains. "We never got to check in after we found Kristina Frye."_

"_Why would we need to check in after that?" he asks, his inflection crueller than he intends it to be. But it's too late now. _ [And he won't admit that most of the anger he's directing towards her is really just his guilt talking.]

_The only external indication that Lisbon__ is bothered is the slight pause before she speaks again. "Frye was put in a facility," she tells him instead. "The doctors are optimistic that in time she might..."_

"_Regain her sanity?" Jane supplies._

"_Jane..."_

"_Well how else would you phrase it Lisbon?" he asks. "Would you go for the euphemism? Suggest that she might 'wake up'? She's not asleep Teresa."_ [True. Wherever Kristina is, it's far, far worse than sleeping. And he can't wake her up.]

_Her first name comes as almost a slap in the face. But she stubbornly holds her ground, even though all she wants to do now is run and hide, lick her wounds. She knows he's only angry because he cared, no cares, about the other woman. _[Incidentally this is also untrue. Not that he cares for Kristina, but that it's the only reason for his anger. Jane is angry, but mainly because he cares about both women involved.] _"No," Lisbon admits. "She's not asleep, but it's not a bad comparison."_

"_She's __caught in a delusion," Jane says. "One that Red John trapped her in."_

"_That's not your fault, Jane," Lisbon whispers._ [True, though they both know he doesn't believe her.]

"_Lisbon," he says in resignation._

"_It's not," she insists._

"_Don't you ever get sick of that?" he asks. "Giving me pep talks?"_

"_Nope," she says cheerfully,_ [though it's a lie. She wishes that one of these times that she wouldn't have to say it because he'll already believe it. The idea doesn't even occur to him.] _"I enjoy the feeling of superiority over you that it gives me."_ [True, though she'd trade the feeling of superiority in a minute if it meant he might get over even a little of his guilt.]

"_Ah."_

_She examines him closely. Despite the attempt at humour he still looks broken. "It's not your fault," she repeats. "But it's okay to worry."_

_Jane is confused. Why was she telling him that? "What?"_

_Lisbon takes a breath before just ploughing forward. Apparently she's a sucker for punishment._ [True]_ "It's okay to worry," she repeats. "I know you feel responsible, and that I probably won't be able to talk you out of it. It's fine. You cared about Kristina," she says gently. "Caring about people is good Jane," she reminds him. _[Also true.] _"It's okay; it's a good thing."_ [Technically true. As a statement it's something Lisbon should objectively be happy about, and genuinely encouraging. After all, it meant Jane was opening himself up to life again. However, selfishly (and horribly) she wishes she didn't have to tell him that. She wishes he cared less about her.]

"_It's obviously not a good thing if it got her targeted," Jane __replies._ [Unfortunately true, though his affection isn't the only thing that got Kristina Frye targeted.]

"_You don't know that's what got her targeted," Lisbon counters._ [Also true. She believes it, he doesn't.]

"_Lisbon..."_

_She cuts him off__. "The two of you, you were close," she says again. "You were just getting to know each other. You liked her. Her abilities intrigued you... Well, it's okay to regret that now you won't get to find out more about them. Not yet at least. Maybe when she gets better."_ [Again, technically and objectively true. But part of her doesn't mean a word. Part of her wants to punch him in the face for his interest in the other woman. To tell him it absolutely isn't okay.]

_Jane stares at her. She's glancing off to the side. He can't tell if it's because she's lying, or because she's just uncomfortable talking about this with him. It has to be the former though, right? She can't really be okay with him asking another woman to dinner when he'd been sleeping with her? He needs to proceed with caution. "I think any chance of Kristina and __I getting to know each other better, in any way, has long past."_ [Truth. Even if Kristina recovered tomorrow he wouldn't want to maintain the connection. Not after she went on television and repeated his mistakes. Not after she downplayed what she'd done. And not after Red John already targeted her once. Jane wouldn't put her in further danger.]

"_She might get better," Lisbon remind__s him again. _ [She's telling the truth, but Jane doesn't believe her. She knows it.]

"_Unlikely," Jane replies. "Even if she did..." He pauses, considering. Lisbon can't hone__stly believe he wants Kristina, can she? Not really? _[She does.]

"_Even if?" Lisbon prompts almost hopefully. She quashes the hope quickly, tells herself that she doesn't care. That she isn't going to think about the implica__tions of the aborted sentence._ [Lie. She does care. She wants HIM to consider the implications of his aborted sentence. She wants him to apologize.]

_Jane doesn't answer right away. He needs to think. He decides it would be better if she believes that. _[A lie. He doesn't want her to believe that. But, apart from the Red John factor, allowing her to believe anything else will mean a confrontation of some kind, and he's a coward.] _"Even if she did get better," Jane continues. "I don't think seeing her again would be a good idea. Regardless of what I may want." _[A neat evasion. Not quite a lie. Seeing Kristina wouldn't be a good idea for any number of reasons. And he hasn't actually said that he wants to see her again, just that his feelings are irrelevant. That way he can make Lisbon can draw the conclusion he wants her to, even if they're wrong. Or rather, he can suggest the conclusions he thinks he wants her to come to. She draws the exact conclusions he intends.]

"_Jane," __she says softly, glad that she had the excuse of concern for him to mistake the sadness in her voice. "You can't give up," she tells him, wishing she could offer another form of comfort, but in no state to even consider touching him. "It's only been a couple of days," she reminds him instead. "Give the doctors time. Try to hope for the best."_

"_I've given up hoping," he __informs her hollowly. _ [She believes him, though she wishes she didn't. He believes himself, for the most part. But it's a lie nonetheless. There is one thing he secretly hopes for, though he won't admit it to anyone. Tragically it doesn't even occur to her to suspect it.]

"_You should go see her," Lisbon sa__ys after a painful pause, wishing she could make herself stop talking. _[Very true. She's in pain now and she wants to leave. But she figures if she keeps going at least one of them might feel better.]_ "Maybe your presence will help."_

"_Or maybe I'll reinforce the delusion," Jane said. "After all, if I talk to her 'spirit' she might honestly believe that's all that's left." _ [Technically true, but not the reason he doesn't want to go see Kristina. He doesn't need to be reminded. Of everything he's done.]

"_Jane..."_

"_I don't like hospitals Lisbon."_ [True. But mostly he doesn't want to be confronted by his guilt, and his mistakes. And he doesn't want to feel angry at Kristina, which he would if he went to visit. After all, how could she honestly believe the delusion she was under. And how could he have ever...]

"_I'm sorry. I know this is painful for you."_

"_It is."_ [True, obviously.]

"_I know you care." __ Lisbon remembers the pain in his voice as he reminded Kristina about their date. As he pleaded for the woman to speak to him. She'd been unprepared for how much hearing it would hurt._ [True. She knows he cares, and she'd expected to be fine with it. After all, she's spent months convincing herself that the two of them had been nothing but casual, nothing permanent, nothing deep.]

"_Of course I care!" he snap__s._ [Technically true. But mainly because he wants Kristina to be okay so he doesn't have to feel guilty about making another woman a victim of Red John. A lie in the sense that he knows it will make Lisbon think he cares about Frye in another way. It does.]

"_I'm just trying to help."_ [True, again obviously. Though she may also be trying to punish herself.]

"_I know."_ [He does. And he felt like he's taking advantage.]

"_I wanted to make sure you were okay, to tell you that it wasn't your fault, that opening up to people is a good thing," __Lisbon said desperately._ [True, but she also wants to assuage her own guilt over wishing that he hadn't chosen Kristina Frye to do that to. Plus she wants to convince him that she doesn't care about any of it one way or another.]

"_I know," __Jane admits, feeling terrible about what he's doing to her. "Don't worry about it Lisbon. I don't want you to worry."_ [A lie. He does want her to worry. But she assumes he's telling the truth, that he finds her concern a nuisance, a hindrance to his plans.]

"_How can I not worry?"__ she asks rhetorically._

"_It's not your job to worry," he reminds her. _ [True, in the sense that his life isn't her responsibility, but a lie in the sense that she's responsible for making sure her team was functioning. He's on her team. Lisbon assumes he's telling the truth though, and that he wants her to butt out of his personal life. That though they're friends of a sort, his romantic life is none of her business. Anymore.]

_But she figures since she's already started this she may as well continue. "Is this why you didn't want in on the case?" she asks._

"_I told you why I didn't want to be involved, "Jane reminds her. "Red John was playing a game, and I wasn't sure what it was." _ [Lie. He didn't want HER to be involved in the Kristina Frye case. He wanted her as far away from it as possible. If anyone was going to be cannon fodder in that case, Detective Mulvaney was infinitely preferable, though he hates himself just a little bit for thinking that. Lisbon knows he's lying too. But his real motivation doesn't even cross her mind. She assumes it's got something to do with one of the hundreds of things relating to Red John that he hides from her.]

"_Okay," she says softly._ [Lie. It's not okay. She's not okay.]

"_I'm sorry Lisbon," he says after a minute. "I didn't mean to take this out on you."_ [She accepts that. But it's at least half a lie. He's deliberately misled her and tried to cause her pain, because in his worst nightmares she's the one who's sitting across the table from him completely catatonic.]

"It's fine," she tells him again with a wave of her hand. [Again, it's not. He's hurt her and she wishes she could scream at him for it. He believes her though. Maybe because he wants to scream at himself. His inherent sense of self-loathing has no trouble believing sometimes that she doesn't care one way or another what he thinks.]

_But it's not fine. He can see that she's hurt, at least a little bit, though he's not a hundred percent sure exactly why. And knowing that pushing her away is a good thing is very different from seeing the effects __of that particular strategy on her face. In a spurt of regret he tries to explain. "Lisbon," he says softly. "About Kristina... About the dinner."_

"_You don't have to explain," she says quickly._ [Actually, she doesn't want him to explain. She won't listen to him tell her why he was fascinated by another woman. That there is the limit of her tolerance.]

_Jane runs a hand through his hair. He should have known she'd be difficult. "Hightower gave me the idea first," he tells her. _[It's true. Madeleine put the idea in his head. It wouldn't have even occurred to him to ask a woman out on a date without that first hint. But he also reacted to the director's suggestion without thinking. Because he's an idiot.]

"_What?" __Lisbon asks. In her surprise she momentarily forgets her resolution not to let him tell her about this._

"_Yeah," Jane says with a laugh devoid of any genuine humour. "She suggested that I should get back in the dating game basically. Put myself out there." And it had been awkward._

"_Y__ou're not serious?" Lisbon asks again._ [Her disbelief is genuine. She's always known Hightower's manner was... odd, but she never could have predicted something like this.]

"_Oh, I'm very serious," Jane says with a hint of a smile. "I was just a shocked as you are. At first I wasn't even sure if she was suggesting I ask Kristina out to dinner or you." He remembers that moment of confusion, of panic that Madeleine may have discovered how he felt about his boss. He's so distracted by the memory that he doesn't realize how very wrong that was to say_ [despite its truth] _until it's too late._ [Unfortunately, this is one of the times she believes him completely.]

"_Well, obviously __she didn't mean me," Lisbon says scathingly. _ [True. Madeleine would hardly encourage a romance between consultant and agent, even if it wasn't technically against the rules.] _"Why on earth would Hightower suggest that you ask me out to dinner?"_

_Jane stare__s at her, completely aghast. "What? Teresa, NO. That wasn't what I... I thought she might mean you. It's not ludicrous at all."_ [True. He doesn't understand why she thinks him wanting to ask her out to dinner is ludicrous. Wanting to ask Lisbon out to dinner seems like the most natural thing in the world from his perspective. Being able to is a different thing altogether.]

_Lisbon force__s herself to calm down, angry at herself for showing even one of her cards. "Probably best that she didn't," she remarks with forced lightness. _[True, but only in the sense that had Hightower suggested anything of the kind Lisbon herself would have wanted to crawl into a hole and die of humiliation.]

"_Exactly," he says__ in relief._

"_And I can see why she'd suggest Frye," Lisbon adds casually. "After all, the two of you have a lot in common."_ [True. By any objective assessment, Frye and Jane have many similarities.]

"_What?" He'd lost control of the conversation again, and he wasn't sure exactly how._

"_Oh come on Jane," she says patronizingly, like it's obvious. _ [It is to her. Jane's confused as hell.] _"I saw the two of you together," Lisbon reminds him with a smirk. "She gets to you. You were fascinated by her that last case. And you like the challenge of figuring people out. I get it. You need a bit of variety from time to time. It's fine. Liking the company of people with similar skill sets is normal. I understand."_ [True. But she doesn't like it. He thinks that's what she means.]

_Jane stares at her. Does she honestly not care? After the past week he's already off his game. This conversation isn't helping. He can't tell what she's thinking at all. He wants to believe that she's lying that she isn't as okay as she's implying. Actually, that's probably an understatement. But he's not sure that isn't just him projecting his own wishes. She probably really is fine._ [Oddly enough, he's right the first time. She's lying through her teeth. But he didn't believe himself.] _ "We were too alike to ever be really good friends," Jane says instead._

_Lisbon rolls her eyes. "Because it's been my experience that people with similar tastes never get along," she says sarcastically._

"_Lisbon..." he murmurs softly as he reaches for her._

_But she pulls her hand out of his quickly. She can't deal with Jane looking at her like she matters right now. She just can't. "It's okay," she says with a grin. She stands up under the guise of stretching her legs. "Having friends is good Jane."_ [Again, as an objective statement this is completely true. But in this situation, it's a lie. For one, Lisbon never once thought Jane wanted Kristina Frye to be just his friend.]

"_I know," he says softly, feeling almost physically ill at her retreat. "I have you?" he ask__s desperately._

_Lisbon turns__ back to him in shock. "Of course. I'll always be around if you need me," Lisbon assures him._ [True, god help her.]

_Jane exhal__es in relief. "I know," he says_. [True-ish. She's stuck by him through too much already for him not to at least believe this in a way. He knows she'll be around in a sense, always his friend. And he knows she'll always protect him. He remembers her immediately jumping between him and the shooter. That's her, his Lisbon. Always looking out for him. Always there. Just not in a the way he wants. Well, maybe not wants exactly. It's too complicated for that now. She won't be there in ALL the ways she could be. His fault. But he already hates himself for so many things, what's one more?]

_Lisbon suddenly feels the urge to either burst into tears or wrap her arms around him, or both. Instead she glances at her watch. "I should get going," she says softly._ [True. If she's not going to tell him the whole truth, which she isn't, it's probably best for both of them if they get a little distance.]

_Jane shuts down. Of course she wants to leave. Why would she want to be in his company after what he's done? "Right," he agrees. __After all, anyone would be sick of his company by now. _[Lie. She enjoys his company, but she can't deal with him right now. So, no. She's not sick of his company. That's the problem.] _He wishes he could go to her apartment with her, maybe sleep on her couch. But he's fairly certain she doesn't want him there. _ [True. She needs space to sort out her thoughts.]

_Lisbon nods, knowing he needs to come to terms with his feelings and his guilt where Kristina__ Frye is concerned. _ [True, but not in the sense she thinks.] _And she can't deal with him on her couch while he does it. Still, she can't leave him like this. "I'll see you tomorrow?" she asks hopefully._

_He flinches.__ Then he stares at her. "I thought tomorrow was your day off." _ [Lie. He KNOWS tomorrow's her day off.]

_She shrugs. "Thought I might drop by anyway. Catch up on some paperwork." _ [Lie. She knows he'll be here. She's worried. It's the only reason she's going to drop by. He knows it too.]

_He exhales in relief. "What if we just meet for coffee?" he __asks._

_She sends him a painful smile. "Two o'clock?" she __suggests._

"_Sure."_

"_I'll look forward to it," she says. _ [True, though he's sure she's lying, trying to make him feel better.]

"_Me too," he replies__ as he watches her slip out the door_. [Also true, though she's sure he's lying now. Wishing she'd just leave him in peace.]

xxxxx

x

The two of them need to be honest.

But they don't. They don't talk to each other. They don't _ask._

Instead, these two intensely private, intensely _broken_ people hide behind the things unspoken. They try to protect themselves and each other, and in the process end up, more often than not, working against each other more.

Their original arrangement could only mainly because it was undefined and unquestioned.

It's why it inevitably fell apart at the first sign of trouble.

And it's the same reason they can't put it back together again.

Neither of them is willing to be honest.

Although, at this point the problem isn't actually a lack of truth or an abundance of lies.

The real problem is that neither of them can really tell which is which anymore.

xxxxx

The End


	4. Post 304: Common Ground

A/N: Okay, here it is. The slightly delayed post-ep to 3.04, Red Carpet Treatment. This one is a bit of a transitional one. And kind of filler. It's not one of my favourites, and like most of this series I'm not sure quite what to make of it. So feedback would be appreciated.

xxxxx

3.04: Common Ground

xxxxx

She hasn't been up to the attic in a while, not to check on him, not to play checkers, not for a cup of tea.

Not since the last time she was up there, after Kristina Frye came back from the dead. Sort of.

Although, he hasn't been back to her apartment with cookies either.

They still meet for coffee from time to time (thankfully). But now it's always in more neutral locations, often an actual coffee shop, sometimes the bullpen, or more rarely, in her office. On the rarest occasions of all, they actually share the same couch. (She still _asks_ him if she can sit beside him before settling in. He always suppresses a wince at her uncertainty and tries to assure her that she's welcome).

Jane stared at the ceiling of the CBI attic. It was sad that this half-hidden room was no longer a neutral zone in his mind. Or hers. The attic was _his territory_ now, just as her apartment was _hers_. And Lisbon was right about one thing earlier today, his partial residence in the CBI building didn't look good.

Jane could only assume that she didn't realize how much he'd settled into in his little attic hideaway, especially since her impromptu visit at the start of their last case was the first time she'd made it upstairs to see him in weeks.

And she'd _knocked_ before entering.

Okay, so she'd knocked before. But he's sure that the sound was more tentative than usual that day.

He knows why.

First case PFR. Post Frye's Re-emergence.

First case since their non-argument.

They've been keeping their distance from each other, just a little.

They're both okay with each other as long as they don't talk about the specific reason why they may not be.

Oh, he and Lisbon still talked, still teased each other. But the banter stayed on the surface. Which meant that it was also rarely uncomfortable, giving the new strategy of avoidance its own advantages.

They were starting to find a new routine.

They were learning how to be around each other in a more normal, regular sort of a way.

They were friendly colleagues. Genuinely friendly colleagues.

She wasn't just tolerating his presence anymore; her frustration was less genuine and more just a matter of course. And even if most of their conversations skimmed on the surface, there was an undercurrent of genuine affection beneath the banter that didn't exist two years ago.

Teresa Lisbon was no longer an abstract concept, the slightly prickly boss that he, Patrick Jane, had to wiggle around to solve their cases. She wasn't just the woman charged with keeping him safe; Lisbon was a real person in his mind now.

One he was starting to get to know quite well.

They were mostly just colleagues before, before their… little interlude. The two of them got along together reasonably well, sometimes thanks mainly to her tact. If anyone had asked him Jane would have said he liked Lisbon without thinking twice about it, although he hadn't really known her. He does remember being sure that Lisbon was merely tolerating his presence on her team. Though she was never actually cruel and never unprofessional, Jane knew that she found working with him difficult (and who could blame her?). A good woman obviously, but their relationship hadn't been much more than professional. Friendlyish, but professional. Or as professional as he was capable of.

Which wasn't very.

His lack of personal boundaries was probably half of the reason that they'd gotten closer. He couldn't help himself. He'd always found her intriguing for some reason. She was a minor distraction just as he'd been a not-so-minor annoyance.

Then she became entwined with Red John, and therefore she became concerned about him and his mental state. At first it'd been simply concern for a member of her team. Mother Lisbon had always been awfully protective of all of her little chicks.

For all that she didn't trust him, and he didn't quite understand her, they did respect each other in their way. Jane found himself enjoying her company, and liking her in spite of himself. Though he still wasn't always sure that she liked him.

And Jane began to feel more than just the cursory sort of curiosity he felt about most human beings who crossed his path. Theresa Lisbon was a puzzle. A deliciously complicated, shadowy sort of a puzzle. True to form, Jane'd simply stepped boldly into her mists to try and figure her out.

The first few trips he managed to find his way back out again, with a new tantalizing scrap of information gleaned from the depths.

Then one day, he got lost in her maze.

And he forgot why he was there, what he'd been looking for in the first place, and, most dangerously, he half-forgot why he really shouldn't have risked entry to begin with.

There were lots of reasons caution would have been better. But by then it was too late.

She was his boss. He was irrevocably broken. She didn't trust anybody. He was done with that sort of a thing. She was one of the most closed off people he'd ever met. He had a serial killer after him and he couldn't make anyone else a target.

And there'd always been some sort of tension between them.

Some sort of mutual irritation, appreciation, grudging respect … Just, _something._

Because like always tended to recognize like.

Making balance hard to maintain.

Especially since he was already half caught-up in her world.

Inevitably life bubbled over for both of them. Red John, the cases, the tragedy, the victims, the job. Lisbon's guilt, his anger, Lisbon's patience, his attraction.

And then the tension snapped. In a hotel room in Monterey after a case that Jane, out of his own unique brand of sheer perversity, decided to speed up by skipping a lot of the legal formalities she liked so much.

She was the one who decided to skip the formalities later in the evening.

And she disappeared from his room long before the morning.

But somehow (miraculously) the balance between them was somehow restored.

For a while at least. When suddenly it wasn't.

And their tension snapped a second time.

And a third.

And a fourth and a fifth. Then Jane stopped counting, but it still kept right on snapping.

Slowly they both began to realize that they cared more for each other than they'd ever expected (or intended) to.

He almost couldn't keep away.

Of course whatever it was they had, it couldn't (and didn't) last.

After all there'd been no foundation. They'd somehow skipped the part where they learned to like each other. Or maybe they'd just skipped getting to know each other in any kind of normal way. Everything they knew about each other was gathered in a backhanded, almost circuitous, half-deceptive kind of way. Anything communicated directly was done almost in desperation, or worse, in apology. Though anything shared was carefully guarded and protected. Because in the end they did like each other. They just didn't know it.

Or maybe they just didn't believe it, which amounted to the same thing.

And Jane was only realizing it now, months too late. Now that he was infinitely more comfortable in Lisbon's company day-to-day. He couldn't seem to get below the surface; there things were still raw. But when it came to working together, the two of them were getting along better than they'd ever been. Lisbon was unwilling to give up on him, just as he was unwilling to completely cut ties with her, but they were both unwilling to risk more.

So they stayed where things are safe.

Now Jane found himself using the things he'd learned.

Because he needed to get past the awkwardness created by the world's only living dead woman.

He was trying to work back up to Checkers in the attic, or tea in her living room.

Basically he was trying to salvage a friendship. Or something.

He should leave well enough alone, but he didn't _want_ to. And Lisbon will probably just yell at him if he tries. She'll tell him he's being unhealthy (and this is one time he has no trouble using her displeasure as an excuse not to do something).

Besides, there was nothing wrong with being friendly with a colleague.

Or so he told himself, since friendly was all they'd ever be.

Now he needed to figure out something that friends do. Something to nudge the two of them back in the direction of their normal.

Because he's realized that post-Frye Lisbon felt like she couldn't ask him how he is anymore. She came at the issue sideways now, gently, as if she was half-terrified he'd snap at her, or shut down. She obviously had no idea what to expect from his mental state.

And Jane never wanted to see that uncertain expression in her eyes again.

They'd been on their way back from interviewing a suspect. One who probably wasn't guilty, but should have been because the sorry excuse for a human being. The man had been, to put it mildly, a jackass. A very sexist jackass. Lisbon had settled for gritting her teeth coupled with the odd insulting remark too subtle for Mr. Moron to even pick up on it. Jane had eventually just deliberately pissed the guy off. Okay, Jane'd mentioned to their suspect that, though he had a mindset boorish enough to commit the murder, he still wasn't anywhere near intelligent enough. For some reason the jerk had taken offence. He'd started to come up with a retort, but Jane had already been out the door. He'd been in no mood to deal with that particular kind of idiocy.

A few minutes later Lisbon found him, pacing standing in a park around the corner.

"Jane?" she asked when she was about ten feet away.

"Sorry about that, Lisbon," he said softly. "If it makes you feel better, he's not our guy."

"Probably not," she admitted.

"Almost definitely not," he corrected gently.

"Oh, well in that case why bother even questioning him?" she'd asked sarcastically.

"You have no idea how many times I've wondered that very same thing, Lisbon," he'd assured her pleasantly. "Believe me, I exercise considerable restraint about that particular issue."

"That was you exercising _restraint?_" she asked, in disbelief.

"Well, no," Jane admitted. "But that man was a horrible excuse for a human being. He probably would murder the women in his life, if he'd had the guts for it. He irritated me Lisbon."

"Yes," she agreed. "He's a class-A jerk, but you still can't go around…"

"Why not?" he interrupted.

"Jane…" she said in exasperation.

"Who treats women like that, Lisbon? His own family?" Jane wondered. "Or you, someone he's never met?"

She paused. He could practically see the wheels turning. "Are you… I mean, is everything…" She shook her head awkwardly and tried again, presumably searching for the most neutral phrase possible. "What's really upsetting you Jane?"

"What makes you think it's anything more than our cordial friend around the corner?" he wondered.

Her glare was expressive.

So he gave in, and tried to explain. "It's misogynistic, intolerant, idiots like that who…" he trailed off. "I guess I never understood how you could treat women like that."

Lisbon sighed, starting to catch on. "Oh Jane…"

"I wanted to shake him," Jane admitted. "Maybe try and knock some sense into him."

"I guess I should be glad you didn't," she admitted.

"Exactly!" he agreed. "I settled for verbal insults instead."

"Unnecessary ones!" Lisbon reminded him. He'd been _right_ obviously, but that didn't mean he could go around insulting anyone he pleased.

"He irritated me Lisbon," Jane told her with a shrug.

"So you punished him," she concluded.

He didn't answer.

Lisbon rolled her eyes, "Your sense of justice really is that of a four year old, you know that?"

He grinned at her unexpected response. "Maybe."

"Definitely," she corrected.

He put his hands in his pockets, "Did I cause you any problems?"

"From that guy?" Lisbon asked. "Nah. After basically sexually harassing me for ten minutes he's hardly going to complain. Besides, we both know his type's mostly talk."

Jane smirked.

"D'you want to talk about it?" Lisbon asked tentatively.

"What?" he asked innocently.

"Jane," she tried again.

But he brushed off her concern. He wasn't mentally prepared to have it out with Teresa Lisbon in a public place about exactly why he was a bit sensitive about a man attempting to exercise too much power over the women in his life. "Nah, I'm good. I'll be my old self in a minute. Must be all this fresh air."

"Must be," she said dryly.

"You want to go for a ride on the swings?" he asked playfully.

She smirked, but then her smile dimmed. "Maybe another time," she told him awkwardly, turning away. "We need to get back to work, find out who really did this. I mean, if you're okay."

The brief smile slipped off his face too. He realized too late that his attitude probably felt like a dismissal, and yet another attempt to shut down on her. "I'll be fine," he assured her. "Thanks for checking up on me."

She shrugged. "My job."

He jogged over to her and fell into step beside her. "Maybe," he agreed. "But still."

"Of course," she whispered. "Now come on."

"Right beside you," he assured her, frowning at her still-awkward posture.

He tried to bring her back out of herself a bit in the weeks after that. And he had some success. Their last case, with that ludicrous woman and her ludicrous television show helped in that respect. Though he'd have rather done anything else other than be on a soundstage. Too many memories. So instead he'd focused on Lisbon, on solving HER case. He tried to use her to keep himself grounded in reality. He made sure she was nearby when he thought he might need her. Her innate practicality was an effective distraction from the memories and questions in his head.

She made him feel better.

So he couldn't resist giving her a little bit of pizzazz when he introduced her. Even if Rigsby and Cho did ask him about that later. It was well worth it.

And the case had rid the two of them of some of their residual awkwardness, just by its very nature.

Because it was for the case she could ask him questions about revenge and he could answer. Even if she didn't exactly like the answers he gave.

The brief moments of honesty pushed them back to being almost comfortable with each other.

He was comfortable in her company now, but he didn't have an excuse to go see her. And he felt like needed one.

That's when Jane realized that they needed a normal, non-work-related activity. Something innocuous that he and Lisbon could do together, that was more than coffee, but wasn't something that would remind either of them of, well, of what their relationship used to be, albeit briefly.

He needed something normal.

A hobby.

So what were Teresa Lisbon's hobbies?

She seemed to like various contact sports.

He didn't. At all.

She also liked to shoot things.

And he _did_ have a gun now.

He already knew how to shoot it of course. He'd learned the basics of how to handle a gun a lifetime ago with some of the r guys from the carnival. He was a little rusty to be sure, but he still knew enough.

He could probably use a refresher course though. Or at least some practice.

And Lisbon was probably a great teacher.

It could be common ground for the two of them.

The corners of Jane's mouth turn up in a wistful smile. It sounded great in theory, but he couldn't do that to her. He couldn't ask Teresa Lisbon to show him how to shoot a gun. Not when they'd both know exactly why he was asking. Sure, he could try and convince her that the refresher course was necessary because the job was dangerous, and he needed to know how to defend himself. But Lisbon would never believe that. And whatever he does, he can't lie to her directly right now. They'll both know. And then he'll have to see the pain and the hurt, and the _fear_ lurking behind her eyes.

She might even refuse to teach him; he's not sure. She'll definitely remind him that _she_ could always be his gun, and that he'd hardly be allowed to carry on one while he was working either way.

He could probably convince her to teach him, citing constitutional rights, or stress relief, or some other nonsense, but… He can't do it. He can't do that to her. He quite frankly cannot ask Teresa Lisbon to give him the tools to kill a man in cold blood. Not when she's made her position on that sort of thing perfectly clear.

He'll certainly never be able to convince her that he just wanted to spend time with her.

So he'll have to give up the idea, for the time being at least.

It's a pity. He likes the mental image of learning how to shoot from her.

Now he needs another hobby.

Or maybe he doesn't. Maybe he should start even smaller than a hobby. Maybe a walk and some coffee.

He's sure she's still in the building even if it is a Saturday. He also knows why. She doesn't come up to the attic itself to check on him anymore, but she still hovers nearby. She's also probably not very busy. Which means he might just be able to coax her out for a walk, and maybe a coffee. She is always telling him he needs to get out of his attic after all.

Resolution made, Jane grabbed his jacket and bounded down the stairs.

To his surprise he met his quarry midway down. Jane grinned. "Lisbon!" he greeted cheerfully. "I was just coming to find you?"

Her answering smile widened. "Were you?" she asked. "That's a coincidence." 

"It is," Jane agreed. "Great minds must really think alike."

She scoffed. "Did you want to go up or down to have this conversation?" she asked. "I'd rather not chat in the middle of the stairwell."

"Oh down please," Jane said airily. "I was coming to see if you wanted to go for a walk. It's a lovely ay outside, and you need to get out of that office of yours."

She stared at him. Then she shook her head, obviously deciding not to point out the irony of his statement. Instead Lisbon chose to focus on the more interesting part of his statement. "A walk?" she asked, obviously pleased.

Jane nodded as they started making their way back downstairs. It seemed convincing her to go outside would be easier than he'd thought. "Yup," he agreed. "Maybe some coffee. Change of scenery, you know. Don't even try and tell me that you have work to do. You don't strictly even need to be at the CBI at all right."

"I could walk," Lisbon said with a shrug.

"Excellent."

"Are you going to buy me a snack?" she asked hopefully.

He smirked. "Maybe. If you're nice to me."

"So probably not then," she surmised.

He smirked at her. "I suppose that's up to you."

This was easy, chatting with Lisbon. It just, it wasn't solid. He needed to make it solid. So they needed to make it solid. No matter how much coffee it took. His train of thought was interrupted by Lisbon abruptly turning out of the stairwell.

"Uh, Lisbon?" Jane called after her. "I know it may have been a while, but outside is this way. Down the stairs. Don't tell me you're heading for the elevator."

"Shut up Jane," she called over her shoulder. "I'm just going to grab my jacket from my office. Unless you want me to be cold and uncomfortable."

"Of course not," he replied. "Though in that case I may have leant you mine. You're missing out on the possibility of seeing me be chivalrous, Lisbon."

"Oh, just open the door for me at the bottom of the stairs or something," she told him. "I'll be back in a minute."

"Sure," he agreed. He'd have opened the door for her anyway. Now he'd just make a big production out of it.

It would be fun.

And so it was. Most of the walk was actually. He teased her about being delicate and needing a coat in the early fall in California. She countered that it was chilly enough that _he_ was wearing layers of clothing, including a jacket. And if he wanted to see delicate she'd demonstrate the meaning of the word, on him.

So he bought her an apple cider to keep the peace.

She thanked him with a smile.

Somehow along the way they moved from talking about snacks, to the weather, to work, and finally to their latest case.

Lisbon was unimpressed that both potential killers in the Henry Dahl murder were going free. And all because it would be impossible to know who actually struck the fatal blow, or shot, so to speak. "It just seems so unfair somehow," she said. "So unfinished. I know the guy was a scumbag, but someone should still be held responsible for his murder."

"Even if there's literally know way of knowing for sure who did it?" Jane asked curiously. "And trying to figure it out will waste a lot of everybody's money and time?"

"It just doesn't seem right," Lisbon insisted stubbornly.

Jane shrugged. "Well, it's not like either of our potential killers is getting off scot free," he reminded her.

"I guess," she murmured. "Oh well. It's not my problem. Good luck for Myers though, huh? After all, if Winters hadn't come along and blown his head to bits with a 9mm, then he'd probably be facing a murder charge. What're the chances?"

"Yeah," Jane said absently.

"Something wrong?" she asked.

"You think it's really therapeutic?" he asked slowly.

"What?"

"Shooting a gun," Jane explained. "That's what people say at least," he added quickly when he saw her face.

"Jane…"

"I'm asking as someone who's not overly fond of guns, Lisbon," Jane reminded her. It was true. He knew how to use them. But he still didn't exactly _like_ them. He just saw their usefulness in certain situations. He'd never be a fan.

She paused, eyeing him warily, clearly trying to figure out where he was going with this.

Jane knew she was suspicious, but all at once he really wanted her opinion. She'd know what she was talking about. "After all Lisbon," Jane reminded her. "Even _you_ go to the shooting range to relieve stress from time to time."

"Yeah, but I never point my gun at an actual person to relieve that stress," she reminded him. "It's an important distinction."

"Are you telling me you never pretend those targets are someone you know? And overbearing boss perhaps?" he teased.

She smirked, "More likely a nosy consultant."

"Fair enough," Jane agreed. "So the shooting range _is_ stress relief."

"Yes," Lisbon admitted. Then she reconsidered. "No. In a way."

"In a way how?" he pressed.

His questions put her on the defensive. "Why do you want to know?" she asked, stalling for time.

"I'm curious about human nature Lisbon, about everything," he explained easily. "And I'm particularly interested in your opinion."

Lisbon stopped walking to examine his face. Jane wasn't sure what she was looking for, so he tried to be patient.

"Yeah," she said finally. "Firing a bunch of bullets into the centre of a target is definitely satisfying. Maybe it does relieve stress in a way. So sometimes I use it to release aggression, or frustration. But it only acts as an outlet if you actually _let go_ of your anger," she stressed. "I've also seen people use a gun to _focus_ their anger. Then going to the range does just the opposite."

"Like in the case of our friend Mr. Winter, the still-grieving widower," Jane whispered.

"Exactly," Lisbon said gently. "I don't carry a gun as some sort of a power trip. It doesn't make me feel superior. I need them for my job. I need them to protect myself. And they're the best way. My guns are just tools that I use. For me the range can relieve tension after a long, hard, day of dealing with some really horrible human beings. But, I _always_ know that I'm never actually aiming at a real person. I'm _always_ aware of that fact. There's never any confusion in my mind."

"You never indulge in a little fantasy?" Jane said trying to lighten the mood.

The half-joke didn't work. "Never," Lisbon insisted quietly. "I can't let there be any confusion. Not when I know what it's like to fire a gun at something other than paper."

Jane flinched at the quiet rebuke. "Lisbon… I…"

She turned towards him. "I'm an officer of the law Jane. I can't become some sort of vengeful angel. The second I do, I lose myself. I lose why I do this. I can't afford to confuse those two things. I just can't." Suddenly she averted her eyes, staring off to the side.

He winced. He was a fool. Of course she felt that way. She'd seen it happen. It explained her insistence on sticking to the rules. He kicked himself for bringing the pain to her eyes. Well, now he needed to ease it a little. He rested his hand on her shoulder, "Lisbon" he whispered. "Thank you."

She shrugged.

He didn't move his hand.

"Really," he told her. "It was none of my business. You didn't need to tell me."

"S'okay," she said gruffly.

He grinned and started to say something else to move the conversation forward, when his mind was suddenly confronted of images, unwanted and unbidden. Images of Lisbon losing it, as she'd threatened to once, when she'd been faking a breakdown and half-acting for Dr. Carmen all those months ago in her apartment. He remembered Lisbon worrying about finally getting so tired of all the noise and the pain around her that she just snapped. He imagined what it would be like if his Lisbon took the law into her own hands. If she was pushed until she pushed back and turned her gun on somebody who probably deserved it. He saw Lisbon, thanks to a truly horrible past year, finally doing something her guilt would never let her recover from.

It couldn't happen. It _wouldn't_ happen. He refused to let it.

His grip tightened automatically on her shoulder as panic set in.

Lisbon glanced sharply up at him. "Jane?" she asked, trying to get his attention. "JANE!"

He looked down at her and saw the concern and confusion on her face.

She nodded silently towards her shoulder.

He released her immediately. "I'm sorry Lisbon, I…"

"What's wrong Jane?" she asked him gently, more concerned for him than her shoulder. He hadn't actually hurt her. She was tough.

He stared at her. "Are you alright Lisbon?" he asked quickly.

"What? Shouldn't I be asking you that?" she wondered, confused. "In fact, I think I just did."

"I'm fine," he told her quickly. "But you… You're okay? You'd tell me if something was wrong?"

His quick-fire questions only made her confusion worse. "What? Jane, I…"

"If something was really wrong I mean," he clarified. "Not like you stubbed your toe on the corner of your desk. Though you could tell me that if you wanted," he babbled. "But I mean, you could…" He ran a hand through his hair. "I want you to know you can talk to me."

"Okay, sure," she started to say.

Jane shook his head. "No. You don't… You don't get it. If you ever thought you were in danger of confusing the paper target with a real human being, you know you could talk to me about it right?" he asked desperately. "I promise I wouldn't tell anyone. Ever. And if you were upset maybe I could… I mean…"

Now it was her turn to grab him, though she chose his arms, not his shoulders. "_Jane_," she said firmly. "Look at me."

He did.

"Do I look upset?" she asked quietly.

He looked more closely. "No."

"Do I look like I'm on the verge of a nervous breakdown?" she asked.

"No," he admitted again.

"Then let's assume I'm not about to have one, shall we?" she asked.

"Okay," he said softly. "But if you ever _were… _I wouldn't want you to think you were alone Teresa. I'd want to _help_ you."

"I get it," she assured him, nearly choking on the emotion in her throat.

"Do you?" he asked, willing the sudden panic down before he frightened her. Just because their relationship had changed didn't mean he cared any less. He just couldn't deal with it in the same way. And besides, he'd already decided he needed a new approach.

"Yes," Lisbon assured him gently. She did. Whether she would ever actually take him up on the offer was another question entirely. "And thank you."

"Of course."

Now it was her turn to try and lighten the mood. "Now was all this an attempt to get me to buy you a tea?"

Jane let her change the subject with a weak laugh. "You got me."

"Alright," she told him. "C'mon."

He fell in step beside her again.

He saw her brush her hair self-consciously behind her ear. "And Jane?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks," she stuttered. "If it's ever comes up, I'll… I'll think about it."

"Okay."

"A gun's just a tool," she told him softly. "People can use it to relieve stress, or to create pain. But at the end of the day it's still just a hunk of metal, waiting for someone to pick it up."

"And make a choice?" he wondered.

"Yeah," she agreed. Then she turned towards the woman behind the counter. "Two cups of Early Grey please, and if you could please put the milk in first in one of them that'd be great."

The tea had distracted the two of them enough that it'd lightened the mood back up. And the afternoon ended with Jane walking his boss to her car and promising to go home himself once he got something from the attic. After retrieving one of his notebooks he couldn't help pausing to think about what Lisbon had said.

About never allowing herself to confuse what she was shooting about, or why her gun was drawn in the first place.

About a gun being a tool.

It was a tool alright, a tangible method of murder. And one that felt strange in his hands whenever he picked up the one hidden in the corner. Still, his gun was a very practical means to commit murder.

It was a very practical way to shoot Red John.

He was sure he wouldn't feel any of the guilt Lisbon had mentioned when he finally did.

After all, Red John's murder would be for the greater good, revenge aside. Plus, he'd be avenging his family. And he'd already heard from a reliable source that that felt _great_.

Like Max Winter, when the time came he wouldn't be able to help himself.

He needed vengeance. For his family, for Kristina, for all the victims. And he needed to protect. Because he needed to ensure that there were no more. That no other women, or people really, in his life were hurt by that sadist.

No, Patrick Jane wouldn't feel any guilt when he finally did it.

Well, other than he knew it would cause her pain. But it couldn't be helped. He'd do what he could to alleviate it, but that's what it was.

Jane glanced towards the corner of the attic where he'd hidden his new, practically untraceable gun. He remembered the weight of it in his hands.

Holding that particular 'hunk of metal' had an odd affect on him, and one that he hadn't anticipated. It's reminded him that Red John, for all his brilliance, was mortal. And that thought gave Jane an odd feeling.

For the first time in a long time he felt like he might win this fight.

He might actually be able to keep her safe like he wanted to.

Like anything, you just needed the right tool to do the job.

xxxxx

The end


	5. Post 305: Boggling Conversation

Here it is, the post ep to 3.05, Red Ponies. It would have taken less time, but 3.14 (the ep two weeks ago) wasn't great for my muse. Anyway, here it is. This one is less depressing than usual, which I'm sure will please some people. I still own nothing. Hope you enjoy.

xxxxx

Post 3.05: Boggling Conversation

xxxxx

He tried bribing them with pizza.

It didn't work.

A few minutes later he tried again. And when that didn't work he offered doughnuts.

Then coffee.

Neither of them worked as peace offerings either, not even with Rigsby.

That was when he tried actually apologizing to Grace. In a way. He told her he was sorry she was upset, and explained that honestly it hadn't been _that_ big a risk on his part. He'd been fairly confident about the con. Then he'd explained how it just _made sense_. He'd even finished by telling her that he wouldn't have wanted to see her hurt and he hoped that she wouldn't hold it against him.

His speech hadn't quite won her over. Actually, he wasn't sure it'd softened her up at all. Apparently determined to be difficult, Grace had just rolled her eyes and responded to his lengthy explanations (and justifications) with a somewhat sarcastic "Yeah, sure Jane, whatever."

Not exactly the response he'd been hoping for.

Rigsby and Cho had also still looked equally unforgiving. Rigsby's ire he'd expected, given that it was probably half due to lingering lovesickness. Cho's irritation was more surprising though.

Lisbon was still in a meeting so he had no idea if she was inclined to be more reasonable than the rest of her team.

Well that was fine then.

They could give him the cold shoulder all they wanted; he'd just go up to his attic where their irritation couldn't reach him.

He should really be working on the Red John case anyway.

Jane headed upstairs with a freshly brewed cup of tea.

He grabbed one of his notebooks and sat down on his make-shift couch.

The latest case had been fun, a welcome distraction with all the high jinks at the stables, but now it was time to focus on what was really important. And he could really only do that upstairs, where he was alone, and it was quiet.

It was really quiet actually.

The whole atmosphere of his hiding place was quite the change from the past few days at the track. A fairly abrupt change actually. He'd been basically at Lisbon's hip for most of the case. And if he hadn't been with her he'd been with Grace.

But now they were mad at him.

Okay, he wasn't sure about Lisbon, but it was a pretty safe assumption given the percentage of time she was at least _annoyed_ in his general direction.

Ah well.

They'd get over it eventually, they always did.

Time to focus on Red John.

Jane stared at his notebook for a minute or so and told himself to concentrate.

His tea was getting cold.

But he couldn't go back downstairs to get more _now_. That would look strange. He certainly wasn't about to sneak back downstairs to get another cup after he'd swaggered out of the bullpen only fifteen minutes earlier.

He wondered if Lisbon was out of her meeting yet.

Maybe she'd come up and play Checkers. She hadn't done that in a while. And they had been trying to reestablish some sort of friendship lately, so it was certainly a possibility.

Not that he really needed her company. He didn't. He needed to focus on the Red John case.

He wondered if Lisbon really thought that the woman who'd jilted the jockey would have had a chance with her murdered love. If the unfortunate man were still alive obviously.

Jane remembered watching Lisbon give Delinda LeCure (now that was a name) the ring that would have been hers if she'd forgiven her forgiven her former lover before he'd been killed. Jane remembered the softness in Lisbon's voice when she'd held out the ring. Tough as nails Teresa Lisbon, at heart a secret romantic. The big softie. He'd seen the empathy in her eyes. Empathy that was present more often than not when dealing with people in pain.

Lisbon certainly hadn't been pleased when he'd pointed out that the woman was deluding herself about thirty seconds later. But it was true. She was. That jockey'd been jilted for a reason. The relationship would've never worked.

Probably.

Some relationships were too damaged, some _people_ were too damaged. And no matter how much you wanted things to work out perfectly, there was nothing you could do to make it _better_.

Not that he'd try explaining that to Lisbon. She should probably keep whatever scraps of optimism she'd managed to hang onto over the years.

Although, from what he'd heard of their jockey, Jane wasn't sure he deserved the sympathy of either woman. He'd hardly been a saint; Delinda the waitress had certainly been through enough already.

Though her grief was certainly real. Hopefully she'd eventually let herself move on.

It was certainly time for _him_ to move on from this case.

Hopefully Lisbon wouldn't dwell on it either. That woman already had enough on her plate. And she hardly needed to spend more time worrying about other people's (absolutely unsolveable) problems and tragedies.

If ever someone needed a little fun from time to time, it was her.

While he needed to focus on Red John.

Now where was that police report he'd been looking at earlier? He'd thought he'd noticed something interesting in it a few days ago. Just a hint of, _something_.

Jane skimmed the report for what was probably the twentieth time when he finally did find it. He sighed. Whatever he thought he'd noticed, it was gone now. And sudden bursts of insight weren't the sort of thing you could _force_. You needed to come at them sideways, without looking at them directly.

He glanced around his admittedly dreary surroundings. The CBI attic may have been quiet, but it wasn't exactly inspiring.

And as far as he could tell, Lisbon _wasn't_ on her way up either.

She probably was still mad about the whole 'putting Van Pelt on a potentially wild horse' thing. Which meant that Lisbon was probably too annoyed for Checkers today. Though she did tend to win a lot of the time; he'd have thought that would cheer her up.

Jane shut his file slowly.

It was too sudden a change. That was all. He'd gone from sparring with his partner and his team to being all alone in his attic brooding about a serial killer in what felt like minutes. He just needed a transition period, clearly. Earlier he'd been playing with horses, teasing Lisbon and making an entire racetrack think he was an entire horse guru. Now he was sitting upstairs in the dark. And to top it off, his tea was cold.

He really needed more tea. And a little bit of background noise. Sitting on his couch near the team _might_ be more conducive to getting anything done in that respect.

But they were still mad at him. Well, annoyed at least.

Maybe Lisbon was over it though.

Or maybe Madeleine had done something else to rouse her ire. She often did. If Lisbon was annoyed about something else then she'd hardly have time to give any of his most recent transgressions a second thought.

She may not be on her way up to visit him any time soon, but there was no reason he couldn't go bother her.

He wondered if she knew how to play Boggle.

Jane threw his jacket over his arm so that it concealed the small game he'd fished out of a corner of the attic, picked up his teacup and headed slowly back down the stairs.

He sauntered into the bullpen, dropped his coat on his couch and looked around.

"Rigsby gone for the night then?" he asked casually.

Cho glanced at him. "Yeah," he said finally.

Jane nodded. "I just came down to get more tea," he explained.

No answer from either of the agents who were still around. He had a feeling no one would be asking him to show them a card trick that particular evening. He was obviously still not forgiven.

"Does anyone else want anything?" he asked. "Since I'm going to the break room."

"No," Cho said bluntly, while Van Pelt gave a slightly more polite, "No thanks, Jane."

Jane nodded absently, as he headed out to the hall. "Oh, I see Lisbon's back from her meeting," he said, in another attempt to make some sort of conversation.

Van Pelt sighed softly. "She just got back a few minutes ago," she told him. "I think she's hoping for an earlyish night. We all are. I'm heading out in a few minutes, after I finish this report."

Jane glanced at her. Still a fair bit of anger an annoyance lingering in her shoulders, but he figured by the next day he'd probably be forgiven. Or at least, she wouldn't be angry any more. He decided not to point that out to her though. Instead, he said, "Well, if you're gone when I get back, I hope you have a lovely evening Grace."

Van Pelt rolled her eyes. "Thanks," she said dryly.

Jane shrugged, and with a final glance at Cho, who seemed to be completely ignoring him, Jane ambled into the break room.

He turned the kettle on to boil some water and leaned back against the counter to wait as patiently as he could. True to her word, he saw Grace walk by a minute or so later, off to enjoy the rest of her evening. She sent him a nod, but didn't say anything.

Jane sighed. That meant that only Cho was left in the bullpen, which meant that sitting on his couch in there would be just as quiet as the attic, even if it was brighter. He scowled to himself. That wasn't what he'd wanted at all.

If he wanted a little bit more noise then there was really only one option left open to him since he'd certainly not be able to engage Cho in conversation (a difficult enough task at the best of times) in his current mood.

Smiling to himself for the first time since he'd headed up to his attic, Jane grabbed a second mug from the cupboard and started making some fresh coffee.

xxxxx

"Hey Lisbon," he said from the doorway of her office, awkwardly balancing all of the things he was carrying.

Lisbon looked up in mild surprise. She hadn't been expecting to see him again that evening after he'd retreated back up to his attic for what she'd assumed would be the rest of the evening. "Jane," she said in greeting. She wasn't exactly mad at him anymore, just annoyed. It frustrated her that he never seemed to understand where any kind of behavioural boundaries might exist. She should be used to it by now, but there were certain lines a person shouldn't cross.

Jane decided to ignore her slightly curt greeting. "I brought you coffee," he told her, as he set the two mugs awkwardly on her desk, and then dropped his coat, with its still-hidden inner bundle, onto her couch.

Lisbon's eyes narrowed in confusion at the slight rattling sound she thought she heard when his jacket hit the couch cushions.

But before she could ask about it, she was distracted by Jane's smiling face handing her a mug. "This one's yours," he told her cheerfully. "I'm having tea," he added unnecessarily.

"Thank you," Lisbon said awkwardly.

"You're welcome."

"So what's this for then?" she asked after a moment.

Jane decided he had no idea what she was asking about. "Hm?" he wondered.

Lisbon rolled her eyes. "The coffee," she clarified. "What brought this on?"

Jane narrowed his eyes. "I can't just bring you coffee late at night when I'm already making myself a drink?" he asked.

"You can," Lisbon admitted. "But you rarely _do_."

"I do sometimes," Jane countered.

"That's true," she admitted. "But I thought you'd already gone up to the attic for the night."

Jane shrugged. "My tea got cold."

"Ah."

"And while I was making more I saw you were back from your meeting," he explained. "So I thought you might like a drink too."

"Ah," Lisbon repeated, surprised by the length of the explanation. It was rare the Jane gave more than the briefest of explanations for anything. She wondered what was really going on to prompt all of these unexpected disclosures.

"Cho didn't want anything," Jane added, when she didn't say anything more.

"And I suppose everyone else has left," Lisbon surmised.

Jane nodded. "I doubt even Cho'll be here for much longer."

Lisbon shrugged. "I'd probably have been gone myself, if it weren't for the meeting with Hightower," she admitted.

That surprised him. For some reason it'd never occurred to him that she might leave early. "How was the meeting?" he asked instead. "No problems?"

Lisbon narrowed her eyes in confusion again. This was different. Jane was, well, he was basically engaging in what was little more than small talk, inquiring about her day like a normal person would. It was… unexpected. "No," she told him. "It was more of a formality, mostly administrative stuff. So of course I have a bunch of paperwork to finish now, but that's about it."

Jane nodded. "Well, that's good I guess. Paperwork's better than the alternative."

"It is," she agreed slowly. "And I should probably get started on it."

He didn't take the hint. Lisbon pulled out a file to make her point more obvious.

It had no effect. "I thought I may have noticed something in one of the Red John crime scene reports," Jane said suddenly.

That got her attention. "What'd you see?" she asked in surprise. She was fairly certain that Jane had noticed any number of things about the Red John case that he _hadn't_ told her, so him volunteering information was a downright noteworthy.

He shrugged in frustration. "I don't know," he told her. "I thought something was strange, but I can't quite put my finger on it."

Lisbon tried to be sympathetic. She should have known it would be nothing. "I'm sure you'll figure it out eventually," she told him as she went back to her paperwork.

Jane nodded. "You can't force that sort of thing," he said after a moment. "Inspiration. Sometimes you have to wait for it to come to you."

"Right," Lisbon agreed, meeting his eyes briefly before going back to her work. She had no idea what Jane was doing, but he showed no signs of leaving, so she figured she'd just let him sit there on her couch, with his tea.

Jane was silent for a few minutes this time, though Lisbon was sure he was still watching her. She knew the quiet wouldn't last.

"Have you ever gone horseback riding, Lisbon?" he asked suddenly.

"What?" she asked.

"Horseback riding," Jane repeated. "Van Pelt was all excited about the horses since we got this case, but you never really said anything, so I was wondering."

"Van Pelt was less excited about the horses in the end, if I recall," Lisbon said dryly.

Jane winced. "I was fairly sure she'd be fine," he insisted.

"Oh well in that case," Lisbon said sarcastically.

"So have you?" Jane asked, turning the conversation back to his original question.

"Have I what?"

"Have you been horseback riding?" Jane repeated.

She shrugged. "A few times," she said. "When I was younger, at camp, on vacation, once on a date. I like it, but I've never really been horse-crazy."

"Ah," Jane said.

She just nodded before going back to work.

Jane frowned slightly. Lisbon certainly wasn't making it easy to engage her in conversation. He glanced out her office window, searching for inspiration. "Oh, looks like Cho's leaving for the night."

"Guess he's done _his_ paperwork," Lisbon said in irritation.

"You must be almost done yours though," Jane told her encouraging. "You started earlier, and Hightower can't have given you that much extra to do at this meeting of yours."

Lisbon sighed. "Don't you have something you could be doing Jane?" she asked, since he clearly (and probably deliberately) wasn't taking any of her more indirect hints.

"I'm trying to remember what I noticed about the Red John case," he said quickly.

"And for some reason you can't do that up in the attic today?" she asked.

"The attic's too quiet," Jane said softly.

"Maybe I should go up there then," Lisbon muttered.

"You wouldn't like it up there," Jane countered.

She sighed. "Probably not," she admitted. "But I really should get this done."

"How long will it take to finish?" Jane asked.

"What?"

"How long?" he repeated.

"Not long," she said slowly. "If I could actually concentrate on it. Why does it matter?"

"Do you know how to play Boggle?" Jane asked.

Lisbon stared at him. "Yes," she said slowly. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Jane pulled a small timer out of his pocket and set it on her desk. Then he placed the plastic container holding the Boggle dice beside it.

Lisbon blinked. Apparently he'd brought his own board game this time.

He grinned confidently at her. "We can play when you're done. If you want."

Lisbon's face softened as she started to understand. The coffee, the fact that he seemed determined to ignore her subtle attempts to get rid of him, the too quiet attic… And just like that her annoyance evaporated. "Give me ten minutes," was all that she said.

Jane's grin turned blinding, and genuine. "Okay," he told her.

"D'you want me to come get you in the attic?" she started to ask.

Jane shook his head and lay down on her couch. "I told you, the attic's _too_ quiet to think today. I'll just wait here for you to finish," he told her happily.

"Are you actually going to _let_ me work?" she asked firmly.

"You won't even know I'm here," he promised her.

She really doubted that, but decided to let it slide. For whatever reason Jane was obviously feeling lonely (and she had an idea as to why that might be), and she certainly wasn't going to discourage him from spending more time out of that stupid attic. She shook her head affectionately and hurried to finish her paperwork, now very glad she'd gotten a head start on it earlier.

But surprisingly Jane was true to his word, this time. He was quiet for the almost fifteen minutes it took her to finish her work. He hadn't even stared her in an irritating way. He'd mostly just watched the ceiling tiles. He didn't even stir when she started putting the folders away.

Lisbon rattled the dice to get his attention. "Ready?" she asked, wondering if maybe he'd actually dozed off.

Of course he hadn't. He sat up immediately. "We'd probably be more comfortable playing on your coffee table than your desk," he told her cheerfully.

Lisbon shook her head indulgently, but let him have his way. She grabbed a couple of pads of paper and a couple of pens from a drawer in her desk for them to write on, while she let Jane grab the game. "I haven't played this in years," she admitted.

"Me neither," Jane agreed.

"Yet you had the game upstairs," Lisbon pointed out.

He shrugged. "You never know when you might get bored," he explained. "And when that happens, what's better than a friendly gave of Boggle?"

"Of course," she agreed dryly.

"I brought it up there a few weeks ago," Jane added.

"You getting sick of Checkers?" she asked with a laugh.

"No."

The soft sincerity in his voice threw her a little. "Oh."

"Do you want to shake the dice first?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"No," she told him. "You can."

So Jane shook the letters and the two of them settled back on the couch, both writing down words. "If the rest of the team were still around, we could have asked them if they wanted to play," Lisbon said absently. "After all, Boggle isn't just a two-person game."

"Not sure any of them were really in the mood for Boggle," Jane admitted.

Lisbon shook her head at him, not feeling particularly sympathetic. She'd guessed he'd gotten a pretty cold reaction when he'd finally poked his nose out of the attic. "You did knowingly put Van Pelt on a potentially dangerous horse," she reminded him.

He huffed in irritation. "I was pretty sure it was a perfectly tame horse," Jane insisted. "It wasn't _that_ risky."

"Jane…"

"And it's not like I _wanted_ her to get hurt," he continued in irritation. "Everyone's acting like I wasn't even worried about it."

"You certainly weren't acting particularly concerned," Lisbon pointed out. He deserved a little bit of anger, though she had no intention of freezing him out.

"Well, obviously I didn't _want_ Van Pelt to get thrown from a horse," Jane muttered.

"Why is that obvious?" Lisbon wondered. "You didn't even give her a warning beforehand so she could be a little more prepared in case the horse did rear up or bolt or whatever."

"I wasn't sure she'd do it if I told her about that," Jane muttered.

"Which would have been _her_ choice," Lisbon told him. "You can't put people in potentially dangerous situations without their consent and then expect them to be happy about it, Jane."

"I don't see what the big deal is," he admitted. "She was perfectly fine."

Lisbon sighed and set her pad of paper aside as the time ran out on the timer. "Remember that case a few weeks ago, the one I had to force you to even work on?"

"Yes," Jane said, setting his pad aside as well.

"And do you remember what I said to you afterwards, about how being a cop is like being part of a family?" she asked.

"Yes," Jane admitted slowly.

"We're cops," she explained.

"Well thank you Lisbon," Jane said sarcastically. "I had noticed that."

"And to cops, your team, your partners are like family," she reminded him.

"Okay," Jane agreed.

"You say that like you understand," Lisbon told him. "But you very obviously _don't_. When we're in the field we have to trust our team or our partner to have your back. Remember how I also told you that we put our lives on the line every day? We accept that. It's why we _have _to trust each other. It's one thing to walk into danger when you're prepared, or out of necessity. It's another to be deliberately thrown into danger by someone who's supposed to be on your side. In this job you _don't_ put your partner in danger," she said quietly. "Not without telling them. Not without good reason. Not without their consent. You keep on the way you're going and eventually Grace'll learn not to trust a word you say," she concluded.

Jane felt his stomach drop unexpectedly. He didn't want them all to distrust him completely. He knew he wasn't exactly the most trustworthy person in the world, but he had his reasons. Usually. He didn't want them… He didn't want _her _to… It worried him what Lisbon might have decided about this whole fiasco. And there was very little he could do about that now. "So basically I broke the fundamental rule of law enforcement is what you're saying," he said lightly.

"Basically," Lisbon agreed.

"And that's why you're all mad," he continued.

She smirked and didn't disagree.

"Right," Jane muttered. "Shall we compare words for this round?" he asked, suddenly very sick of this conversation.

Lisbon turned her attention back to the game and let the conversation slide for the moment.

Two rounds of Boggle later she brought it back up again. "You should have at least warned her," he told him.

"What?" Jane asked.

"Van Pelt," Lisbon explained. "You should have at least warned her about the possible danger. She's so determined to do well she'd have probably got on the damn horse either way. You'd have had to let someone else in on your little plan a bit earlier than you probably wanted to, but still. It would have saved you a lot of hassle later."

"Would you have done it?" Jane asked. "If I'd told you in advance?"

Lisbon smirked. "I wouldn't have gotten on a _tame_ horse bareback," she reminded him. "Remember, my horseback riding skills are pretty basic."

"That's not what I meant," Jane said in exasperation.

"I know," Lisbon admitted.

He sighed softly. "I would never be careless with your life Lisbon."

She smiled in spite of herself. "And I would never be careless with yours," she assured him.

He chuckled. "I don't think you'd ever be careless with anybody's," he told her affectionately.

"It's my job," she reminded him with an embarrassed shrug.

"I _was _worried," he repeated.

"I know," Lisbon said again.

Jane looked up.

"If you _ever_ put a member of my team in danger, cruelly, or unnecessarily, you'll be gone so fast…" she warned.

"Go directly to jail. Do not pass Go; do not collect $200?" Jane mused, figuring the board game analogy was appropriate.

"Exactly."

He sighed. "I know I'm not exactly traditional…"

"That's the understatement of the year," she interrupted.

"I honestly didn't think it'd be this big a deal," he admitted. And he almost regretted it now. He hadn't realized how much he'd _liked_ being able to come down from the attic and talk to the team for a little while. He liked baffling and then irritating Rigsby with his card tricks, talking to Cho, teasing Van Pelt. He didn't like the weird wall of near-silence.

"They'll get over it," Lisbon assured him. "In a day or two."

Jane nodded. He knew they would. That wasn't quite the point. He wasn't sure what the point was exactly. But it wasn't that. He watched the woman across from him surreptitiously. At least she was in a forgiving mood.

Or maybe she was just taking pity on him.

Whatever the reason, he was glad she'd been delayed from leaving early by a boring, bureaucratic meeting.

"God, look at the time," Lisbon said suddenly.

Jane tried not to let his face fall. He knew exactly what her sudden realization meant. She was about to say it was late, that she needed to get home, unwind, sleep. That he should do the same. And he didn't want to. It'd be just as quiet at his apartment as it'd been in the attic. He knew they couldn't go on playing Boggle indefinitely of course, but…

"I'm starving," Lisbon continued. "Have you eaten?"

The question surprised him. "No," he told her truthfully.

"Me neither," she said. "Want to order food in? I'm certainly not going home and cooking something."

"How often do you ever go home and cook?" he teased.

"Shut up," she told him playfully. "Do you want to get something or not?"

He grinned. "Chinese? They have that special on spring rolls on Thursdays?"

"Sounds good," Lisbon agreed. "And after you call them, we can keep playing while we wait. If you want."

"I'll just get the usual, shall I?" Jane asked.

"With extra Won Tons," Lisbon added.

"Yeah," Jane agreed. "The usual."

"Shut up."

He laughed at her, but did as she asked. No point in needlessly antagonizing her.

From the sounds of it, they were both going to be there a while.

He heard her rattle the dice behind him as he grabbed the phone on her desk.

The noise made him smile.

xxxxx

The end (for now)

xxxxx

For those of you who don't know, Boggle is a game that involves 16 dice with various letters on them arranged in a square. The object is to make as many words as you can by connecting the letters before the time runs out. It's simple, but it's fun. And relatively portable.


	6. Post 306: At her own discretion

This post-ep is basically because it's occurred to me that Lisbon's got to have some not insignificant issues of her own, relationship wise. And the timing of it is… handy. This one's a bit different. It feels almost unfinished to me, though it's not. It is done. Still, I dunno. It's just different. I hope you like it. If you have a minute let me know what you think.

Still don't own 'em.

xxxxx

Post 3.06: At her own discretion, for her own protection

xxxxx

Sometimes she really wished that the CBI building wasn't quite so open concept in its design. It meant that one could see absolutely _everything_, even if it was happening in another room.

It meant that one was often exposed to every (stupid) little argument in the break room.

Specifically it meant that she had been able to see Rigsby and Van Pelt make it absolutely obvious they were in a relationship, back when they actually _were_ in a relationship at least.

It meant that more often than not she could see one quarter of her team apparently asleep during working hours.

And it also meant that when she got up to grab something from the other side of her office, after yet another awkwardly terse conversation with her boss, that she glanced out the window just in time to see her consultant kiss said boss on the cheek.

Not that it was a real kiss; it was only an impertinent little peck on the cheek. Lisbon knew that Jane'd probably only done it because he knew he _could_, and because he loved to throw people off balance.

Because he was Jane.

Jane, who was handsome enough to get away with it. Who all the girls were secretly (or not-so-secretly) fascinated by. Jane who could charm any woman into doing his will, even (or maybe especially) Madeleine Hightower.

As she watched Jane saunter away out of the corner of her eye, Lisbon shuffled the papers she was holding violently enough that she crinkled some of the edges. Her mood wasn't improved by Hightower's reaction to the peck on the cheek. The head of the CBI simply shook her head indulgently before walking back to her office.

Lisbon stared at the now empty couch for a second longer before walking back to her desk, barely resisting the urge to childishly stamp her feet or kick one of the drawers.

Stupid Jane, who could do whatever he wanted without reprisals. Who'd boasted about being able to seduce literally any woman. Who usually had females rushing up to cooperate with him, if they didn't simply fall at his feet after a single flash of his smile.

While he probably didn't care too much about any of them one way or another.

This time it was her drawer's turn to be treated roughly as she wrenched it open.

Given the amount of female attention Jane received, it would only make sense for most of it to mean nothing to him. Or next to nothing anyway.

After all, there were plenty of shallow, silly, or susceptible women out there. They probably all ran together in his mind after a while.

Those women who were more than willing to be lured in by his own particular brand of charm.

Of course some of the women Jane inadvertently seduced were just plain lonely.

Wanting someone to be there, to see them, someone to _notice_.

Jane was good at noticing.

Lisbon dropped her head in her hands.

And that particular quality could be awfully attractive to women who sometimes wanted human connection so much that they turned to their unstable consultants.

Goddamn it.

She was probably as bad as the rest of them.

Maybe even worse, since she actually knew him.

What was wrong with her?

Thank goodness whatever semi-romantic relationship she'd allowed herself to have with Jane had ended when it had. Things were screwed up enough already. This was insane. Her reactions were insane.

She was acting _jealous_.

Of a peck on the cheek she absolutely _knew_ was completely meaningless.

Besides, he and Jane had never claimed to be special to each other. Never. Not in that way. Not in _any _way.

And she'd do well to remind herself of that fact from time to time.

They'd been lonely. She'd been attracted to him. He was there, always there. One day she'd jumped him. Or he'd jumped her. They'd kind of jumped each other. The details didn't matter.

It was done now.

And this was _exactly_ why she didn't really do relationships much anymore.

This was why she didn't do deeper.

She didn't need the hassle.

And she wasn't _really_ jealous. She refused to be. Which was why she quite simply wasn't, not in the traditional sense.

It was just… it would have been nice to be special, to be important.

Because it wasn't just that little kiss on Hightower's cheek. Over the course of the case Jane had also somehow managed to horribly insult a federal judge, to cause the woman any amount of emotional pain after she'd lost a mother and daughter in the same week, and then Judge Fitz-William somehow decided that was _just fine_. While Lisbon hadn't been able to hear the conversation from her office, she'd gathered enough of what had gone on from what she'd seen through the window. It was obvious the Judge wasn't going to be pursuing any sort of disciplinary action despite the fact that Jane had almost certainly refused to apologize.

And yet, for some reason the capering consultant had won the day.

If Lisbon ever said half of the things Jane had to a federal Judge (even one who actually deserved it), she'd have been fired on the spot.

Come to think of it, she probably _had_ almost gotten fired on the spot. After all, she'd been the fool who'd listened to Jane's suggestions in the first place. Lisbon winced as she remembered Hightower's rebuke, that she was paid to trust her own judgement, not Jane's.

Still, she, Teresa Lisbon, had jeopardized her career yet _again._ Because Jane had promised her he was right.

As if she needed more proof that she could be just as bad as those women lured in by Jane's smile.

Some days she had about as much influence with Jane as they did.

It was the damn smile, and his hair, and the way that he seemed to just see right through you. And she didn't even know what it was really.

(And if she _did_ know part of it she wasn't going to acknowledge the fact. Because she was _not_ going to think about his hands and the way they'd felt when he touched her. In fact, she wasn't going to think about any part of him touching any part of her.)

He drove her crazy in the best and worst possible ways. He flirted with _everyone_. It was second nature to him.

Which probably meant that Jane flirting meant about as much as the kiss he'd given Hightower five minutes ago.

Damn.

When had she started trusting Patrick Jane? When had he started being this important?

Was she an idiot?

She trusted almost no one. Was that what this was about? Her mind had finally given up, decided that she needed to trust someone and settled on him by default?

She'd definitely let him get closer than most people got. That didn't bother her most of the time. Most of the time she could believe they were friends (or close enough to it). He'd stop flirting or teasing for thirty seconds and she's see something almost genuine in his eyes that'd make her think that maybe…

Well, just maybe.

And those moments were what allowed her to justify trusting him at all.

Because she also made sure to keep him just far enough away.

Especially after what had happened a few months ago when… When Red John had resurfaced and things had shifted between them.

Although, he _was_ getting closer again.

Because, like almost everyone else, apparently she couldn't help herself.

Because he made her feel like whatever they had, it _meant _something to him (maybe).

She liked it better when he didn't flirt with her.

Not because she was against the flirting, or because she didn't enjoy it. But because he really did flirt with _everyone_.

And this was ridiculous. She was ridiculous. He'd kissed Hightower on the cheek, _as a joke_. She was blowing the whole thing completely out of proportion.

Most days she'd have just laughed it off.

But apparently not today. Sometimes she got so sick of almost everything coming so easily to Patrick Jane.

And of everything simultaneously being such a fiasco.

_Trust me Lisbon. I know what I'm doing. It'll all work out. We'll catch the bad guy. I just need to do this one little thing. I need you to trust me with this one little thing._

And she had, just like she almost always did.

Because part of her wanted to. Part of her wanted to be able to trust her "partner" the way most police officers could. Part of her wanted to have a normal case _just once_. Just one case where things went even sort of the way they were supposed to.

And she wanted to be _sure_ that everything not related to Red John wasn't just a game to Jane.

Most of all she wanted to know what the two of them were too each other.

Coworkers? Close coworkers? Friends?

Something else entirely?

She wanted to know if he'd been as acutely aware of how close they'd been to each other physically when they'd been hiding under that desk as she had been.

Or maybe she didn't.

(He hadn't even been _touching_ her. Well, except when his hip brushed up against hers. But she could feel his breathing. When he'd leaned in slightly closer to whisper in her ear the leg was beginning to fall asleep was the least of her problems, though it did provide a welcome distraction.)

It's not like either of them wanted to start a real relationship. That would really be insane.

And she wasn't going back to what they had. It'd been even messier than things were now. Back when they slept together and Jane _still_ flirted with most other women at will. And then he asked some of them out to dinner. And tried to charm them. And god only knows what else.

Not that this was anything like _that_. Lisbon was (nearly) positive that Jane didn't have any even remotely romantic intentions toward Madeleine Hightower (who definitely didn't have any kind of romantic intentions towards Jane).

She wasn't his type.

And he wouldn't do that to her. At least Lisbon hoped so. Because she had to believe their friendship meant enough to him that he wouldn't start pursuing her boss. He had to know what dating Hightower would do.

Somehow all her rationality didn't make Lisbon feel much better.

She sighed.

It'd been a bad week was all. And she was tired of playing games, of having to deal with this nonsense. She wanted simple. She didn't want to think about Jane. Or maybe she just wanted to…

She didn't know what she wanted.

She needed to just go back to work, finish her paperwork, and then forget about this entire mess of a case.

"Knock, knock."

Lisbon looked up at her doorway, completely unsurprised by her visitor. "Hey," she said.

"Hey," Jane replied with a smile as he stepped into her office. His eyes narrowed as he got a better look at her face, "You okay?"

"Yeah, of course," she replied. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know," he said slowly. "But you looked upset for a minute."

"I'm fine," she told him firmly.

He didn't look convinced. "You're sure?"

"Very," she assured him. When he still looked concerned (and curious), she tried distraction. "Everything okay with Judge Fitz-William then?"

"I see Madeleine told you about her little deal," Jane said with an irritatingly smug grin.

"She may have mentioned it," Lisbon admitted, trying not to let his attitude get to her. She'd always known Jane would never apologize. Some things never changed.

Jane's smirk widened. "Of course she did."

Lisbon clenched her jaw and decided that sometimes taking the high road was overrated. "Well, excuse me for caring about my professional future," she said sarcastically.

Her sudden burst of anger seemed to surprise him. "Lisbon…"

She ignored his attempt to get her attention. "I know you don't give a damn what happens to you," she ranted. "But I'd really prefer a federal judge didn't pursue some sort of disciplinary action against _me_."

"Lisbon…" Jane tried again.

"_You_ just do whatever _you_ want. It doesn't matter to _you_. _You_ don't care…"

"TERESA!" he finally shouted.

That got her attention. "What?" she demanded.

Jane paused, realizing that he didn't actually know what he wanted to tell her. "I didn't apologize," he said eventually, unsure of exactly what might provoke her in her current mood.

"Shocking," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"But Judge Fitz-William isn't not going after you, or me, or any of us really," Jane assured her quickly.

"So you say," Lisbon said dryly.

"So she says," he corrected gently.

Lisbon sighed. "Why?" she demanded.

Jane shrugged. "She saw things from my perspective."

Lisbon took a deep breath and ran a hand through her hair.

Jane's eyes narrowed again. "But you knew that already," he said slowly.

"Do you have any idea how irritating that is?" she asked

"What?"

She could have evaded the question, but she was too tired, of all of it. "That people _always_ see things from your perspective."

Jane obviously hadn't expected _that_ response. "They don't," he told her.

"Ha."

"_You don't_," he insisted.

"I know," she admitted grudgingly. Not always at least.

Jane smiled at her. "I know you know."

But in her current mood his stupid, _affectionate, _smile just irritated her. "Aren't I special then?" she asked sarcastically.

Jane's smile flipped to a frown instantly. "Always," he said softly.

That distracted her from her mental diatribe, "What?"

She stared at her consultant as he turned and shut her office door. "You heard me," he said firmly when he turned back to face her again. "And how did you know that the occasionally sanctimonious Judge Fitz-William wasn't going to pursue disciplinary action anyway?"

Now it was Lisbon's turn to be surprised. "What?"

"You heard me," Jane repeated.

She froze, "I…"

He chuckled in spite of himself, easily reading the truth of the matter in the guilt on her face. "Lisbon, were you spying on me?" he asked, obviously amused.

She didn't see any point in denying it, not outright anyway. "Don't be ridiculous," she said. "I was getting something from my filing cabinet and I happened to see the three of you out the window." To emphasize her point she picked up her file, held it up for him to see, walked over and placed it back where she gotten it from.

"A likely story," Jane scoffed.

"Shut up Jane."

"So you saw our conversation, and smart woman that you are, you figured out what happened with those keen observational skills of yours," he summarized lightly.

Lisbon figured that at this point it was probably best to admit in a roundabout sort of way that he was right, that she had seen what had happened in the bullpen, just to end the conversation of course. So she smirked and went for the joke. "Jane kissed a girl… Again."

"Only on the cheek… Again," he said looking oddly uncomfortable.

"Still counts," she said with a shrug, remembering a past conversation.

"Jealous?" he asked too quickly for it to be entirely playful.

His clumsy attempt to deflect the conversation away from the issue hit too close to home.

Even Jane knew it. Or at the very least he realized he'd gone too far when the smile fell off her face immediately.

With one careless remark he'd managed to cross a line that both of them so forbidden that both of them had been pretending didn't exist for months now. With that belated realization the panic on Lisbon's face was reflected on his a half a second later.

Lisbon shook herself out of it first, managing to summon up an air of exaggerated unconcern from somewhere or other; she was used to hiding what she was feeling after all. "Please," she said, rolling her eyes for extra effect.

Jane ignored her attempt to create distance. He needed to fix this. Now. Without thinking he took several steps towards her, moving into her personal space. Too close into her personal space for the CBI building, even by Jane standards. "Lisbon," he said softly. "Teresa… I…"

She grinned up at him, hard and bright. But she couldn't quite hide the pain in her eyes completely, especially not from him. She moved back behind her desk. "Jane, I know this might be hard to believe, but not all women are as susceptible to your charms as your ego likes to believe."

"Lisbon…" he said softly.

But she was too distracted to hear the pleading notes in his voice, "I mean, I know a disproportionate amount of women seem to fall at your feet, god only knows why," she babbled on quickly. She couldn't deal with his comfort, his apologies, or worst of all, his explanations. He didn't _get_ to comfort her now. He got to get the hell out of her office (while she rebuilt her game face). "But I feel that it's my responsibility to inform you that some of us aren't quite so easily swayed."

"I know," he said seriously.

"Although I can't exactly fault you for trying to stay on the good side of the boss," she added in that same falsely playful tone, determined to ignore his attempts to have any kind of a genuine conversation.

"I…" Jane nearly stuttered, trying to figure out exactly when the conversation had gone so wrong. "She interests me," he said finally.

"Of course she does," Lisbon said significantly.

"Not like _that_," he said sounding almost scandalized.

"I know," Lisbon admitted. "Though if she did it wouldn't be any of my business."

"You're not honestly implying…" Jane said slowly, trying to ignore the feelings of confusion and dread in his stomach.

"Why not?" Lisbon wondered, glad that almost everyone else had left for the day. "I know she's married, but if a_ quarter_ of the water-cooler gossip's too be believed, then the marriage vows haven't exactly been heeded, by either party."

"_Lisbon!"_

"I'm not _judging_," Lisbon explained quickly. She wasn't. She'd never been married, never even come close. Who was she to judge anyone for seeking outside comfort in that situation? Madeleine Hightower was free to do whatever she wanted in her personal life as far as Lisbon was concerned. As long as it didn't affect the job. They all were. "Hightower's entitled to her private life. She's a good agent, a _dedicated_ agent. That should be enough. But people are stupid. And they can be vindictive and petty, especially when they it comes to women in authority in this field," she couldn't help adding dryly.

"Wait a minute… Are you saying that," Jane wondered, desperately trying to keep up with what she was saying.

"I know there are people who've said similar things about me, Jane," she told him with a shrug of her shoulders. "Minus the marriage obviously. But I've been accused of sleeping with half the men who cross my path. I don't let it bother me Half the time I don't even listen to it."

"_Who?"_he demanded his tone suddenly quietly menacing. "_Who's accusing you?_"

"What?" Lisbon asked, surprised. She hadn't been paying that much attention to exactly what she'd been saying; she'd simply wanted to distract him from thinking too much about why she'd reacted so strongly to an off-the-cuff comment. "I don't know. Like I said, I ignore it. It's not the point."

Well, he certainly didn't agree with _that_, but there was a far more important issue at the moment. He blinked and tried to steer the conversation back to the point he needed to make. "I'm not romantically interested in Madeleine."

"Did I say you were?" Lisbon asked innocently.

"You implied it," Jane said bluntly. "Obliquely, even for an implication. But you did."

"You implied it first," she shot back childishly."

"I just…" he faltered again, trying to explain it obliquely, without blurting out the very specific reason the idea of him and Madeleine was so utterly ludicrous. "She's interesting is all. I don't quite understand her."

"Ah," Lisbon said knowingly.

"Don't say it like that!" he snapped.

She played dumb, "Like what?"

"You know what," he told her. "She's a complicated woman, is all. And that's always interesting," he explained. "_You_ should understand that."

She winced. "So you want to study her, to take her apart, and when you've figured out all the pieces, then what? Find another toy to amuse yourself with? Move on to something more interesting?"

He stared at her like she'd grown a second head and he wondered what they were really talking about. "What? _Teresa…"_

"I'm just _teasing_ you, Jane," Lisbon said stubbornly using his last name and trying desperately to shake off her irritation. She really needed this conversation to be over, before she said something she'd really regret. "I know you're not trying to seduce Hightower."

"Do you?" he wondered.

"Yes," she said with half a laugh. "And hey, things worked out for you again."

"Yeah," he said absently. "Lisbon I…"

"What?" she interrupted forcefully, sure direct confrontation would faze him.

He stared at her. "Nothing," he said eventually.

She sighed to herself. Of course. "Well, okay then."

"Okay."

She turned her attention to her computer, hoping he'd take the hind.

He stared at her for a moment, wondering what he should (or even could) say. "You're not Madeleine, Teresa."

She stopped flipping through her file though she didn't look at him.

He took that as a sign of encouragement. "You're not just _anyone_," he said, his voice low. "You're you."

"Yeah," she whispered. "And you're you," she added, finally meeting his eyes.

"Teresa," he said gently, sitting down across from her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

In any other situation he'd have laughed. "That's obviously not true."

"Jane," she said tiredly.

"_Teresa_," he insisted.

"It's just been a long case," she said finally. "Stressful."

"Do you want a cup of coffee?" he asked.

She smiled slightly. "No thanks. I'm almost done here. I just want to go home and relax."

Jane looked like he wanted to say something else, but then he thought the better of it. "I'll keep you company while you finish up," he said eventually as he dropped down onto her couch.

She closed her eyes briefly. "_Jane…_"

He stared at her.

She knew she wouldn't be able to get rid of him, not without an explanation she wasn't willing to give. "Fine."

"Good," he agreed. "And when you're done I'm going to walk you to your car."

She shook her head in mild exasperation and told herself to just go back to work.

It was only after she watched Jane watch her drive away safely that she allowed herself to think about what that might mean.

That in the end she was the one Jane cared enough to sit with when she was having a crappy day. Even if he was the one who'd caused the mess in the first place.

Because she wasn't just any woman to him.

And deep down she'd already known that.

The thought made her feel both better and worse.

She thought she hadn't known what she wanted from him. She was wrong. She wanted uncomplicated.

She not to have to worry about some kind of major mess every single damn day.

Thank god they'd only been something casual.

Thank god she had no claim on him, or he on her.

He didn't do serious.

And while she _was_ special, with all of _his_ baggage, there was only so much Jane could give.

As his friend (she thinks that's what she is at least) she can be in his life. She can have a relationship with him, maybe even mean something. And still keep things at a distance, keep a little bit of perspective.

As anything else she's just like all the rest of the women whose heart he sets racing with his devilish grin.

She's sure of that fact.

Flirtation, seduction doesn't mean anything to Patrick Jane.

He uses it against people. It's just another one of his tools.

And one she won't have used against her.

This was why casual is always better. Less chance of getting hurt. This was why she should be relieved, glad even, that whatever they were doing ended when it did. This was why she was smart not to engage her heart. This is why she tried _never_ to engage her heart.

She needed to look out for herself at least some of the time.

She couldn't trust anybody else to do it.

She almost couldn't trust anybody else at all.

Maybe Jane.

Just not with her heart.

She didn't trust anybody with that.

It'd been scarred too many times already.

And she couldn't bear to be let it be just another casualty to someone it wouldn't mean anything to.

When it came to romance she'd keep things temporary. Everything was safer that way.

Especially her.

xxxxx

Jane watched her drive away.

Something was bothering Lisbon.

And it'd taken every ounce of willpower he possessed not to try and force her to tell him what that was or trick it out of her. He probably could have, but there was too big a chance that she' d have ahted him for it (probably rightly so). He couldn't risk that right now.

Besides, he had an idea of what at least part of the problem was. If the tension in his chest was anything to go by. And if he was right, poking around her until she confirmed it would make everything worse in the long run.

So he had to let her work it out on her own.

He didn't like that she was upset though. He'd have to keep an eye on her.

She needed a distraction. Something fun. Something good in her life.

Something to make her laugh.

Maybe he should do something.

A gift maybe.

Nothing extravagant. She'd hate that. Just something small.

It was a good idea. Especially since he had made her life a bit difficult the last few days.

Besides, she almost always made him feel better when she was having a bad day. Now it was his turn.

And it would need to be something personal, something just for _her_.

Because everyone deserved something special from time to time.

Especially her.

xxxxx

The End (for now)

xxxxx

A/N2: Also, I wrote a large chunk of this before 3.15 aired, so conversational similarities are kind of unintentional (at least they were), and I shall be dealing with the reasons for what's going to end up being a slight re-hash when I get there.


	7. Post 307: Though shall not covet

A/N: Okay, this one's a bit different again. But I think it works fairly well, especially when paired with 3.06. I quite enjoy this one. Of course, I adore Mashburn, so that's rather predictable. Please, nobody shoot me for it. I hope you enjoy the chapter as much as I do.

xxxxx

3.07: Thou shall not covet

xxxxxx

"_You do not mess with super-rich people. They're like kids with machine guns."_

"_Super-rich people like Mashburn."_

"_What about Mashburn?"_

"_Oh my god you're just so obsessed with Walter Mashburn!"_

"_You're the one who brought him up!"_

"_What is it with you and him?"_

xxxxx

He hadn't expected _her_ pupils to dilate.

He'd been teasing, joking around really. And it'd been fun, at first.

Mashburn and his unique moral code were always interesting. Plus there were all the toys that tended to accompany an obscene amount of money. And in this particular case there was also a Teresa Lisbon flustered by a man pursuing her as the billionaire did. Then she tried trying to hide her own reactions to said billionaire from her colleagues and everyone else. Put it all together and it added to a seriously entertaining case.

Plus, with all the semi-insanity, Jane had the added bonus of trying to make her laugh. She needed to laugh more.

Then, in the midst of all his games, he'd noticed that Mashburn's eyes weren't the only ones with dilated pupils.

Teresa Lisbon had wanted the billionaire right back.

As he let himself drop onto the couch in his attic Jane admitted that he hadn't been quite prepared for _that_.

Hadn't been expecting that _at all_.

For some reason it had never occurred to him to consider that _she_ might genuinely respond to _Walter Mashburn_.

But she had.

And why not?

Objectively Mashburn was handsome, rich, powerful, charming. Not to mention he was obviously fascinated by one Teresa Lisbon. Why was it in any way surprising that she'd responded to such an obvious (and also, he would imagine, incredibly flattering) pursuit? She had needs, just like anyone else.

And there was absolutely no reason why she shouldn't act on them.

She was a single woman. A beautiful single woman. Even with all of her trust issues (not to mention the ridiculous hours she worked), it was almost shocking that she didn't have more men chasing after her on a daily basis.

He knew of at least three different CBI employees who would be willing to buy her dinner (or whatever), if she ever looked in their direction.

But she never looked.

She'd looked at Mashburn though. With those tellingly dilated pupils.

As she had every right to.

Jane stood up abruptly. He wasn't tired. He didn't want the uncomfortable, makeshift, couch.

He wanted… he didn't know. Something he wasn't going to get.

He began to pace around the attic. He wanted to have not stopped off at Mashburn's hotel room earlier that evening. He wanted to not _know_ that there'd obviously been someone in the bathroom. And he really wished he hadn't been able to guess who the obvious candidate was.

Once he'd been hit over the head by _that_ particular realization, Jane couldn't get out of that damn room fast enough. And if Mash's smirk had been anything to go by, the billionaire had guessed as much.

And why not? His chosen companion was certainly no one to be ashamed of. Quite the opposite.

She was a woman who was perfectly free to do as she pleased. Who Jane had no claim on. Never had.

What was wrong with him?

He had no right to be acting almost _jealous_.

Damn.

Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn, _damn_.

Jane stopped his agitated pacing long enough to kick one of the legs of his couch.

Then he groaned in frustration (and pain).

He _was_ jealous.

Horribly jealous.

Of Walter Mashburn for catching her interest, making her smile, making her feel desirable. For being able to flirt with her. For being a man who Teresa Lisbon was more than willing to give a night to.

Jane didn't like that the other man got to be the one who helped Lisbon have a little fun, who helped her break out from all the structure and routine of her days. That was supposed to be _his_ job. _And_ _Mash_ didn't have a serial killer looking over his shoulder to worry about. _He_ could be fun without worrying about consequences.

It was an unfamiliar feeling, this jealousy. Jane didn't like it.

He liked even less that it wasn't just jealousy.

It was envy.

He was envious of Lisbon herself, absurdly. He liked pretending (in his head) that the two of them were in the same situation, that neither of them could have any sort of functional relationship. But obviously that wasn't true. Just because he had nothing else didn't mean she didn't either. She was free to do as she liked. She could sleep with an attractive man. She could sleep with a hundred attractive men. There wouldn't be any consequences. Well, beyond general exhaustion maybe.

On the other hand, when he took a woman out to dinner (on an idiotic _whim_) she ended up in a catatonic state a few months later.

As he simultaneously screwed up one of the most consistent (one of the best) relationships in his life.

Because he was an idiot and a fool and a million other unflattering things. And he was getting _exactly_ what he deserved.

_Of course_ she preferred Mashburn. _Of course _she did.

Who wouldn't?

He didn't get an opinion. And he certainly couldn't expect Lisbon to be celibate, to revolve her entire life around him.

He didn't deserve anything even close to that from her.

And she didn't deserve the consequences of a close connection with him.

_She _didn't deserve a target painted on her back. _She _hadn't taunted a serial killer on national television. _She_ had more sense than that.

And she'd looked so genuinely happy earlier, when she and Mashburn had been dancing around each other. She'd been so quietly thrilled when Jane'd told her Mashburn _wasn't_ the killer, that Mashburn's apparent guilt had been part of a little plan to catch the killer. The general aura of sadness surrounding her had lifted immediately. Then she'd socked Jane in the arm and demanded to know she hadn't been informed earlier.

He hadn't had an answer to give her. Not a good one at least, since a (masochistic) part of him had wanted to see how she'd react, to see how the millionaire's possible guilt would make her feel. And his only reward was that he got to something he really hadn't liked. Because he hadn't liked seeing her upset, for so many reasons.

Now he was the jerk who couldn't be happy for her for finding something good in her life. Something that wasn't tinged in tragedy or pain or work, like everything else that surrounded her.

Including him.

He _was_ a jerk. And selfish, arrogant, cruel.

And he called himself her friend.

He should be _happy _for her.

Besides, she almost certainly wasn't looking for a _relationship_ with Mash. Lisbon wasn't anywhere near that naïve. She'd know exactly what she was getting into, going to the billionaire's hotel room. If Jane wasn't mistaken, Mash would be leaving the country the next morning. The connection between the two of them was little more than a tryst; it wasn't _permanent._ In fact, Jane suspected Lisbon didn't do permanent relationships. And Walter Mashburn was hardly someone who would break _that _pattern. He wasn't going to be around long term.

Not like…

Jane paused and took a deep breath.

Not like he was.

He, Patrick Jane, was the closest thing to permanent she had. Even just as her friend. _He_ was the one she worked with every day, the one she played board games with late at night when they were both a little bit lonely, the one who bought her breakfast when she decided she was too busy to eat.

He was horrible for her, and damaging, and he definitely took more than he gave. But he was still there. In a way.

In his way.

If he pissed her off too much she might kick him even further away. And he'd been the one whose actions pushed her away from him.

Until that evening, he'd almost forgotten how much he needed her. Or maybe he'd just pushed it to the back of his mind, one of the many things he didn't like to think about.

He didn't like to think about how _realistically_ he would have to deal with competition for her time. She wasn't a social butterfly, but she also wasn't a recluse.

He'd become so focused on the serial killer he hadn't even considered any other obstacles between them.

Not that they were relevant anyway. Not now.

But…

Whatever. He'd have to settle for being her friend, for still being able to be there to make her smile a little. Even if he wasn't making her smile the brightest. It didn't matter if he had wanted to get closer, he couldn't.

But he _could_ bring her breakfast when she forgot to feed herself.

And unless he was very much mistaken, she'd be needing something to snack on the next morning if they got a case. He doubted she'd have time to grab anything, after her… evening.

He'd make sure he was the one to bring it to her.

And then he'd try very much to be happy for her.

He'd try to be the good guy.

She deserved _that_.

xxxxxx

Lisbon sauntered out of the hotel room and swung into her car after hanging up her phone. No point in stopping by her house, or even stopping by the office. It seemed her team had a case. Right now. Straight to the crime scene it was.

Ah well. This is why she always kept at the very least a spare blazer in the trunk of her car.

She grinned and she started the engine. Okay, so last wasn't night wasn't the _usual _reason for her practicality.

But sometimes a girl just needed to let her hair down, let loose a little.

She turned up the radio in her car and drummed along with the beat on her steering wheel. And last night she'd certainly released a quite a bit of tension.

She bit her lip as she remembered.

It'd started off innocently enough.

Okay, it hadn't. But it'd certainly started off more innocently than it'd ended.

She'd been at her desk, wrapping up the case, as usual. Okay, maybe not quite 'as usual'. She would admit to _maybe_ glancing at her phone a few more times than she should have, and then to lingering around her office trying to make a decision about what she wanted. Actually, she'd known what she'd _wanted_; she hadn't known whether she could work up the nerve to actually do it.

Then her phone rang.

"Lisbon," she answered.

"I heard from a very reliable source that you like strawberries," a voice drawled in her ear.

Lisbon settled back into her chair with a ridiculous grin, confident that there was nobody around to see it. "And who told you that?" she asked.

"Tsk tsk, Teresa. You can't honestly expect me to reveal my sources?" Mashburn scolded playfully.

"You do seem to have a disdain for convention, _Walter_," she shot back.

"Exactly," Mashburn said. Then he returned to the original topic of conversation. "Tell me, do you know what one of the best things about being a billionaire staying at a really good hotel is?"

"I can't say that I've ever been in that position," she told him, playing along. "What's so great about it?"

"They'll bring you strawberries, _fresh_ strawberries, right up to the room. As many as you want," he told her.

"Hang the cost?" Lisbon asked dryly.

"Teresa, I let Patrick spend $260 000 on a broken hunk of a car. Do you really think I'd have any qualms buying you a houseful of fresh fruit if you wanted it?" he wondered.

She paused, considering. "And what's to stop me from dropping by the supermarket and just buying my own strawberries," she teased. "We're in California after all. There's certainly no shortage."

"Did I mention you can actually get pretty much anything from room service here," Mashburn asked completely undaunted.

"_Anything?_" she repeated slowly.

"Well, I haven't tried testing them," he said with a laugh. "Though we could if you wanted."

"Mmm…" she hummed, amused.

"And the beds alone are worth the price of admission," he continued blithely. "The lumbar support is perfect. Most comfortable night's sleep I've had in ages."

Her smile widened again. "Well now, that would imply that if I came over I'd be _sleeping._"

She could picture his answering grin in her mind's eye. She ignored the butterflies in her chest.

"Like I said," he promised huskily. "Whatever you want."

"We'll see about that," she murmured back.

"What?"

She smiled again, mind suddenly made up. She deserved this. She _wanted_ this. "I expect there to be strawberries already in that room when I arrive," she threatened.

"Of course," he said delighted.

"_Fresh_ strawberries," she emphasized.

He nodded into the phone, "The very best."

"And remind me to tell Cho I don't appreciate him giving two-time murder suspects tips about how to seduce me," she added as an afterthought.

"What?" Mashburn asked with a surprised laugh.

"He was the only one you had enough time to talk to, to work up to _that_ in conversation, other than Jane, who'd have never told you directly no matter how you approached the subject," Lisbon explained. "Of course, Cho's the opposite. With him you'd have been better to just _ask_ whatever you wanted. He's not so good at subtly approaching a subject."

"That became readily apparent," Mashburn agreed. "Now I know for next time."

Lisbon snickered. "See you in about twenty minutes."

"I'll be waiting."

"Patiently?"

"Quite the opposite I assure you, Teresa." 

She secretly loved the way he said her name. Her _first _name. Sometimes it felt like she rarely heard it anymore. It was a nice change. "Patience is a virtue," she scolded lightly.

"But we both know I'm far from virtuous," he reminded her.

That was what she was counting on. "Goodbye Walter."

"Goodbye Teresa."

So she'd quickly finished the few last things she'd been dawdling over, left her office for the night, stopped by the ladies room to make sure she looked alright (and among other things to make sure her hair wasn't sticking out at some hideous angle), and got the heck out of dodge.

She could feel the anticipation simmering just under her skin as she knocked on the door to his hotel room almost a half an hour later. Still, she thought she did a fairly decent job of adopting a casual pose as she waited for him to actually let her into the room.

Mashburn didn't even try to look casual, not if the grin she saw when he opened the door was anything to go by.

"_Teresa,_" he said slowly as he let her into the room. "So glad you could make it."

"You did promise me strawberries," she reminded him.

"There's chocolate too," he promised. "Here, let me get your jacket."

"Thanks," she whispered as she felt his hands linger a little too long on her arms as he helped her take it off. She turned her head over her shoulder to look at him. "So chocolate you say?"

"Mhm," he agreed. "Really, really, _good_ chocolate. Melted. For the strawberries of course."

"Really?" she asked languidly, as she let him invade her personal space.

"I also took the liberty of ordering champagne," he added, his voice low, seductive.

"Someone's confident," she laughed breathily.

"I believe you called that arrogance earlier," he reminded her, running a finger along her forearm.

"Did I?" she wondered, distracted by his cologne and suddenly glad she'd remembered to reapply her perfume.

"Mhm," he said with a grin. "Though one could also consider it optimism."

"Hm," she agreed as she let herself angle her body closer to him. God he was tall. She forgot just how tall he was until he was standing right next to her. And then she remembered that he had a good foot on her. At least. It didn't irritate her though, even when he used it to his advantage. At least not right now it didn't. It just made her feel _wanted_, a feeling she hadn't even realized she'd missed until he reappeared unexpectedly in her life.

She felt her heart rate quicken as he leaned even closer. She met him halfway, knowing that this time there was no crazy German super-model to come at either of them with a knife. In fact, here there was no one to interrupt them at all.

Not tonight.

Tonight there was only his hand at the back of her neck, guiding her into the kiss they'd been leading up to ever since he'd first pulled up in that ridiculous car of his and pretended not to remember her name.

And that was when Lisbon had really started to enjoy her evening..

The strawberries were as fresh as he'd promised. She was sure the champagne had been ridiculously expensive. And she'd eaten more chocolate than was good for her.

Not to mention, he'd been very, very right about the almost unbelievably comfortable bed.

But then, so had she.

There really hadn't been all that much sleeping in it.

All in all, a very satisfying evening.

Except for Jane's brief visit of course.

And she knew he'd been there. For one, she'd heard him from the bathroom, and for another, Walter'd told her. He hadn't told _Jane_ she was in the other room (Walter could be surprisingly gentleman-like sometimes, often when she least expected him to be). Lisbon suspected her consultant knew that Walter hadn't been alone though.

And if Jane hadn't known who the billionaire's guest had been the evening before, he certainly would as soon as she arrived at the crime scene.

Part of her was dreading his reaction. Surely he wouldn't actually _say _anything. He'd have no reason to.

Maybe he wouldn't care.

Jane had certainly appeared almost indifferent to Mash's obvious flirtation earlier. If anything her consultant had been amused. Which really showed how much the whole thing was affecting Patrick Jane.

And anyway, it wasn't any of his business. He had no reason to care about her love life one way or another, or to resent her for having one. He clearly understood the need to seek out companionship for personal reasons. They weren't even in a quasi-romantic relationship anymore. Patrick Jane had no reason to poke his nose in anything.

Just as she had no reason to feel guilty.

And she didn't. She refused to feel bad about her evening in any way.

She'd needed it. And damn it she'd _wanted_it.

And just this once, for one night, she'd gotten _exactly_ what she'd wanted.

And she hadn't been the only one.

They'd had fun. It'd been normal, casual, easy. Walter didn't have expectations. He didn't need her to save him, or fix him, or pick up the pieces after him. There was nothing haunting his days. And there'd be no pining, no broken hearts afterwards. Walter was simple. And he didn't make her sad.

She was almost at the crime scene, and she wasn't sure what to expect. Was she about to be treated to an abrasive Jane, poking around her, and trying to make fun. Or would his comments all be under the guise of teasing her? He probably wouldn't want to be cruel, but he might decide to try and make her uncomfortable as hell.

Or, as had already crossed her mind, he might not care at all. And all that she'd get was a knowing eyebrow.

She honestly didn't know what would happen.

And that worried her.

xxxxxx

Jane wished he didn't recognize what that particular swing of her hips he saw as she got out of the car and walked over to Cho to get caught up on the details of the scene meant. He'd gotten used to seeing her hips roll like that about a year ago. It was… _odd_, seeing it again under a different set of circumstances.

He also wished he couldn't see the subtle waves of self-satisfaction pretty much wafting off of every part of her.

Actually, for the first time in a while, he wished his observational skills weren't quite so good as they were. He wished he could wander about in blissful ignorance this morning.

He watched her check in with her team, take a look at the crime scene, and talk to one of the local LEOs briefly. Then she turned in his direction, Cho having pointed him out.

Then Jane really wished he couldn't see how her posture changed. Although this time it was for different reasons entirely. He watched it become apprehensive and a bit defiant. Then a hint of something crept into her eyes as she approached.

Not guilt. There was no guilt there. It was worse. It was worry.

Like she was afraid of what he was about to do when she finally reached him.

Hell. She thought he was about to embarrass her.

Well _screw that._

"Jane," she greeted cautiously. "Anything out of ordinary I should know about?"

"Eh," he said noncommittally. "Not much. Back of cemetery seems an odd place for a murder, but other than that…"

"We've seen stranger," Lisbon reminded him.

"True," he agreed.

"And here I was hoping for a quiet day," she said dryly.

He bet she was, though all he said was, "In this job?"

Lisbon smirked in response. She wasn't _that_ upset about the case to be honest, even if it would have been nice to have a nice, slow, morning. But she was going to try very hard not to let Jane destroy her good mood. Especially since he didn't seem inclined to (at least so far).

"Here," he said, handing her a white paper bag. "This should make you feel better."

She looked suspicious and gingerly took the bag from him. Her eyes brightened when she saw what was inside. "A bear claw?" she asked in pleasure.

He shrugged. "I was grabbing myself a muffin on the way here, thought you might like something."

"Thanks Jane," she said with a grin.

"You seem like you're in a good mood, Lisbon," he told her as he watched her practically attack the sweet treat.

"What?" she asked, her head whipping up quickly. And then the hint of panic was back in her eyes, along with a considerable amount of anger.

He held his hands up defensively. "I'm just saying, you look happy today. It's nice."

Her breath caught then her eyes narrowed as she tried _that_ idea on for size. "_That's_ what you're saying," she repeated slowly.

"That's _all_ I'm saying," he corrected. She didn't honestly think that he wanted to talk about her evening? She must know that he'd at least guess where she'd been. And given that, the absolute _last _thing he wanted was any kind of gory detail. Her relaxed smile and sparkling eyes had been punishment enough.

Her eyes widened briefly in understanding and she tilted her head towards him almost imperceptibly. "I'm not sure how I feel about that," she said after a moment.

"What?" he asked in confusion. Did she not _want_ him to be happy for her? Did she _want _him to be angry, upset, maybe even…

"I don't think I like the implication that I'm _never_ in a good mood," Lisbon continued, surprised and relieved by this turn of events. It wasn't often that Jane actually acted like an adult. Though she was secretly wondering why he'd apparently chosen today to start.

Jane cursed his overactive imagination. Of course that wasn't what she'd meant. Of course she wouldn't want him to be upset, or to cause him pain. His reaction to how she'd spent her evening probably didn't matter to her one way or another.

"It makes it sound like I'm this grumpy ogre who comes in and barks orders around all day," she added, moving the conversation back to more neutral (safer) ground.

"Well…" Jane dragged out.

She swatted him.

"Owww!" he complained. "See, this is exactly my point. And after I brought you breakfast too."

"Shut up Jane," she said with a grin before heading back towards the others.

His answering grin slipped off his face when her back was turned and he was treated to the sight of _that_ swing of her hips again. Still, he jogged to keep up with her.

He'd almost lost her once last case; when the bomb had gone off in the office building he'd been in little more than a blind panic until he realized she was okay. He hadn't been happy until she was nearby, and alive. Still Lisbon.

He'd wanted her close then, and he certainly wasn't going to let her get too far away now.

He needed her too much to make that mistake again.

xxxxxx

The end

Yay for the Mashburn ep! It will always be one of my favourites.


	8. Post 308: Reaping what you sow

A/N: Alright, here we go. It's another one that's not particularly angsty. And another one that's been planned out for a while. This chapter also (probably) marks the end of my relatively rapid updates, since I have absolutely no idea what 3.09 is going to be about yet. Alright, I have a very vague idea, but not nearly enough to actually write a full chapter. So, there may be a slight delay.

In the meantime, I hope you all enjoy this one. Thank you to all the people who took the time to review the last few chapters. It's always appreciated.

xxxxx

3.08: Reaping what you sow

xxxxx

He wouldn't tell her where they were going.

They'd been in the car for almost half an hour now, and Jane was showing no indications that they were any nearer to their intended destination, whatever that might be. Lisbon's curiosity had been high since they passed the edge of the city, but Jane had been stubbornly silent on the subject of where they were going, absolutely refusing to say anything about their little trip, one way or another.

"This is ridiculous you know," Lisbon said suddenly.

"Is it?" Jane asked.

"Yes."

"Why?" he asked reasonably.

"Because it _is!"_ she insisted in frustration. "Why won't you tell me where we're going?"

He resisted the urge to smile. "Why should I?"

"Because it's something normal people _do_," Lisbon said in irritation. "Normally a person doesn't just get into a car with someone else without having any idea of where they're going."

"Obviously you did," Jane replied, still talking in the same reasonable tone.

"I figured you'd tell me on the way," his companion grumbled.

"Ah," he nodded. "Well, that was an incorrect assumption, Lisbon. First mistake."

"One of many where you're concerned," she shot back.

"Oh, now there's no need to be like that, Teresa," he said patronizingly. "Acting like a little girl whose parents won't buy her candy just because you haven't gotten what you wanted. "

"Oh be quiet, Jane," she said quickly. "This is my day off you know. There are things I could be doing right now. This is my personal time; I am _not_ required to supervise you."

Jane's mouth tightened slightly. "Of course you're not _required to,_ Lisbon," he said, his tone short. "I just thought this might be fun. Try and relax would you? You don't have to act like I forced you into the car."

Lisbon glanced at him, feeling a little guilty. She took a few slow deep breaths. "Sorry," she muttered.

"I know patience isn't your strong point," Jane continued.

Lisbon gritted her teeth, but decided not to rise to the bait.

"And you're hardly _supervising_ me," he added. "I would have liked to think this was more of a friendship, especially when we're off the clock..."

"I said I was sorry," she said quickly. "It just makes me nervous when you refuse to give me the details of one of your little plans."

"Yes, you said something like that before," Jane said softly. "Like to keep tabs on me do you, Agent Lisbon?" he grinned, turning slightly towards her.

But Lisbon saw something behind his eyes, so she ignored his teasing and answered truthfully. "I prefer knowing that you're alright," she admitted awkwardly. Because if she knew where Jane was then it was easier to make sure nothing horrible happened to him, or that he wasn't _doing _something to cause something horrible to happen. Yes, she worried about him. Sue her.

Jane's expression softened into something far closer to affection than amusement. "I promise, you won't regret giving up your Saturday afternoon," he assured her. "We're not going to do anything even remotely controversial. This isn't one of my 'little plans,' as you call them. This is just two people having a nice afternoon, hopefully."

"Okay," she said.

"Now why don't you just try and enjoy what's left of the drive?" Jane suggested.

She nodded and looked out the window. She'd have been able to enjoy the drive more if she wasn't feeling slightly hungry. She hadn't had much for lunch before Jane had called her. His earlier jab about being upset because she didn't have any candy wasn't all that far off actually.

"There's a chocolate bar in the glove compartment if you want it," Jane told her with a nod.

"Really?" she asked, amused, and not even bothering to ask how he'd known.

"Why don't you check it and find out?" Jane suggested indulgently.

She opened the glove compartment. "There really is a chocolate bar in here," she said in surprise.

"I told you there was," he said with a shrug.

"Well, given how much you _usually_ tell me..." she let her sentence trail off significantly as she tore open the package of her favourite chocolate bar. If she had to deal with Jane, she may as well reap the minor benefits.

"Ah yes," Jane agreed. "But when I _do_ tell you things, they tend to be correct. Most of the time."

"So you usually only commit the sin of omission," Lisbon muttered. "Well done Jane."

"There's your Catholic upbringing making itself known, Lisbon."

She ignored that. "Why won't you tell me where we're going?" she asked again. "It's not that unreasonable a request."

"I've never been one for doing something just because it's _reasonable_ or because it's what people _usually_ do," Jane told her.

"Oh, well in that case, by all means, be subversive for _no good reason," _Lisbon shot back.

"Who said I didn't have a good reason?" Jane asked. "Just because I won't tell _you_ what it is..."

Lisbon let her head clunk against the passenger side window.

"Although, since we're talking about things that people _usually_ do," Jane said, suppressing another grin as he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "I would point out that when people refuse to tell their passengers where they're going, it's usually because the destination is meant to be what some people like to refer to as _a surprise_."

Lisbon turned away from the window to examine his profile. "Is that what this is then?" she asked, a hint of pleasure in her tone. "A surprise for me?"

"That would be the usual conclusion, yes," Jane told her, his voice perfectly neutral.

"You just said that you don't do things just because they're _usual_," Lisbon reminded him teasingly.

He let out a whoosh of air in a laugh and sent her a grin, acknowledging that she'd half-caught him, even if it was only a verbal trap. "Sometimes I make an exception," he told her.

She smiled back. "So what's the surprise then?"

"I think you'll find that if you look up the definition of _surprise..._"

"Oh, come on Jane," Lisbon said in exasperation.

"Nope," he told her cheerfully.

She stared at him for a second. "Seriously?"

"I'm always serious," he told her.

"No you're not!" she replied incredulously.

"Okay, I'm not," he agreed. "Thank goodness. Can you imagine someone who was always serious? Someone completely joyless? They'd almost certainly have to go into politics. Or banking."

"Or become a mortician," Lisbon added. "If you're not going to tell me where we're going, at least tell me how long it's going to take."

"We're almost there," Jane promised her. "You really have to work on your patience."

"I hate being patient," she grumbled.

"I know," he told her. "And I know that you hate relinquishing even the little bit of control required to let me drive you to an unknown location. So thank you for that dear."

"Don't patronize me," she muttered, self-consciousness making her irritated again.

Jane glanced at her. "_I'm not_." He insisted. And it was true. He'd been shocked that it'd been so easy to get her into the car at all. Of course, she had been unusually cheerful whenever she saw him for the past week. He liked that she was so obviously pleased he'd come to no harm after being kidnapped. And he was at least as pleased (if not more so) that she was safe as well. It was why he'd planned their little outing in the first place. He just wanted to spend a bit of time with her, reassure himself that she was fine. That they were both fine.

He'd wanted to reconnect.

Lisbon seemed unaware of all that though. She rolled her eyes.

Jane smirked, and let the conversation lapse into silence. Less than a minute later he switched on his turn signal. "Here we are!" he said cheerfully as he pulled down a driveway of what was obviously a farm.

"What's this?" Lisbon asked in confusion as she looked around.

"It's a farm," Jane told her slowly as they got out of the car. "Really Lisbon, I would have thought that the large red barn made it obvious."

"I know it's a _farm_ Jane," Lisbon shot back. "I meant what are _we_ doing here?"

"Well, Jane explained. "I apparently owe you an apple. At least according to you. It took a few days to get it too you though, since I needed to recover from my, what did you so charmingly call it? Creakiness? Which showed a remarkable lack of sympathy to my cattle-prodding at the hands of a crazy girl, I have to say. Really, mocking me like that Lisbon…"

Jane outlined his list of grievances further, but Lisbon ignored him. She probably couldn't have replied even if she'd wanted to since all of her breath was clogged in her throat. _Her_ consultant had been taken and cattle-prodded. Jane had been _taken_. Sherry Winger or Rachel Bowman, or whatever her name had been... The broken, crazy, woman had hurt him, almost _killed_ him, both of them actually. The day he'd been rescued Lisbon remembered the sense immediate relief, maybe even joy (okay, if she was being honest, there'd definitely been some joy involved). Hell, she'd had difficulty not smiling whenever she saw him on his couch for the past _week_ now.

Which was worrying.

She was not supposed to be that happy that Jane was alright.

Obviously she was supposed to be _happy_. But it was the degree of her happiness that was worrisome. It was a problem that she might be happier that Jane had been returned safely than she would have been if it'd been Cho, or Rigsby, or Van Pelt who'd been kidnapped.

Or maybe it just felt that way since he'd been the most recent member of her team to get into a dicey situation and he was the only one not physically capable of defending himself.

Either way she needed distance.

_Now_.

Lisbon glanced at her consultant (maybe her _friend_) out of the corner of her eye. Jane may have still been complaining, but with the sunny smile and relaxed posture all she could focus on was that he was also looking cheerful and healthy and _there_.

She definitely needed distance.

(She wasn't sure she _wanted_ it though.)

Lisbon gave herself a mental shake. _Of course_ she did. She cared way too much if Jane's near-death was affecting her more than her own.

Although, she _was_ more used to being in that kind of danger, and it'd been twice in such a short period of time for him, but still. She let out a shaky breath and tried to get a hold of herself.

"And _creaky_ Lisbon," Jane continued, still running off at the mouth. "_Really?"_ he asked. "That was the adjective you went with? When was the last time you actually heard someone _creak?_"

"Well, you were moving around pretty gingerly," Lisbon reminded him with an attempt at a laugh that came out way, way too forced.

And Jane finally noticed that something wasn't right.

His eyes narrowed and scanned her quickly, starting with her posture and ending with her face. He grabbed her wrist. "What's wrong Teresa?" he asked gently.

She wasn't quite successful in wrenching her arm away from him, "Nothing," she said far too quickly. "I'm fine. You're fine," she added with a wince.

He caught the grimace of course, now that he was paying attention.

And it was his turn for a sharp intake of breath. He'd upset her. Of course he'd upset her. He was an idiot. He'd seen her smile when he'd been sent back to the CBI by the doctors and told he was almost as good as new. Hell, he'd replayed that particular smile in his memory more times than he cared to admit. He also let himself drift closer to her in casual conversation than usual, let himself spend even more time in her office, telling himself they both needed the reassurance. And now he'd gone and stirred things up again like a fool. Though maybe that was a good thing. They should probably address what was going on. At least a little.

Jane took a step closer to his boss and ran his hand along her arm to soothe her. "I'm fine," he said gently. "Your team found us in time. Well, your team plus your boss," he amended. "The CBI."

"That's _my _job," Lisbon whispered. "To find you in time." She was supposed to be the one to look out for him. She was the one who pulled him out of the fire. She didn't get kidnapped and need rescuing too. She'd been fine with it all _at the time, _so focussed on trying to fix things. It was only afterwards that the reality of the situation occasionally hit her.

"Oh, let Madeleine have this one," Jane said lightly, though he knew exactly how she felt. The bottom had dropped out of his stomach when he'd seen Rachel lead _Lisbon_ down the stairs. Not only because Teresa Lisbon was usually the one who rushed into a crisis with a solution, but because he'd wanted Lisbon far, far away from the crazy woman with the grudge and the gun.

Jane had meant it when he'd said he wouldn't let her burn to death. He'd have done anything in his power to save her. But he couldn't tell her that. All he said was, "I think Hightower gets bored all day in her office. Being in the field probably made her feel useful."

"I guess," Lisbon said, watching his hand as it moved from her wrist to her elbow and back again.

"We're okay, Lisbon," Jane added, his voice soothing. "You're okay; I'm okay. We're both okay."

Lisbon looked away quickly, and, after another unsuccessful attempt to remove her arm from his grasp, she wrapped the other one around her chest.

Jane sighed, and ducked his head ever so slightly closing a little more of the distance between them. He was already physically too close already, but he didn't care. Not right then at least. "I told you I wouldn't let you die, Lisbon," he reminded her gently.

She almost smiled. "Oh of course, well done there," she said mockingly.

He ignored that, recognizing the defensiveness for what it was. "I was worried too," he admitted grudgingly.

"Yeah, she might have been the one who finally got you," Lisbon snarked.

"Not what I was worried about," he admitted. "Not after... Not near the end." They'd gotten _her. _Someone had used _her_ to punish him. It was his worst nightmare come true. Part of him _hated_ that she was close enough that she could be used to cause him pain. Part of him just wanted to protect her, as best he could. Which was almost comical considering how much she'd hate that. "It's okay," he tried to reassure her again.

Lisbon let her eyes shut and allowed her head to rest on his shoulder briefly, letting herself take comfort in his proximity. She'd been placing herself slightly too close to him all week. What was once more?

"Lisbon?" Jane asked softly, wanting to make sure she was still with him.

She straightened immediately, nodding sharply. "Okay," she said, unsure what she was even agreeing to at this point. Then she mentally shook herself. "What are we doing here anyway?"

Jane smiled brightly and took a step back.

"I'd have thought that would be obvious," he said, smiling as cheerfully as he could.

"Jane…" she whispered.

"Apple picking," he said quickly.

That shook Lisbon out of herself. _"What?"_

"Like I said," Jane explained with a shrug far too calculated to be natural. "I apparently owe you an apple. This was the closest place that grew Red Delicious. This way I can pick you a whole bushel, covering whatever interest may have accrued on the original apple, _and_ proving once and for all that I am _not_ _creaky_."

Lisbon felt a sudden stab of pain in her gut. She glanced at his hand, still wrapped around her wrist.

Understanding Jane gave her a final reassuring squeeze before releasing her. "Lisbon," he said gently. "I'm here, you're here. We're both here. Let's just go pick some apples."

She swallowed slowly, before meeting his eyes. "Okay," she agreed softly. "But if you're going to force me to work for my food instead of just buying it at the store like a normal person, then you're definitely paying for it."

"Of course," he agreed.

Lisbon let her guide him up the driveway, grateful for his silence so she could get a handle on herself. On the muddle of thoughts running through her brain.

She remembered when he'd finally been cleared by the paramedics and escorted back to the Serious Crimes Unit. She remembered being able to feel her own ear splitting grin. Not wanting to be more than a foot from him on that damn couch. Being so pleased that he was sitting there, _still drinking tea_, like nothing had happened.

Apparently everything really had finally decided to hit her _today._

She _really_ couldn't do this.

Not the apple picking. That was _fine_. But...

She couldn't be… couldn't care so…

It was _Jane._

So it was almost certainly suicide.

In more ways than one.

But how could she stop?

He was on her team. He was her friend, of sorts.

No. Not _of sorts._

She'd been lying to herself for weeks now about that. He was _her friend. _And her team was the closest thing he had to a family. She'd meant that when she'd said it. She wouldn't take that away from him, wouldn't punish him for being her friend. Likewise, she certainly wasn't going to resign, or request that he transfer so she could get some distance. And she'd worry about any of her agents if they were in danger. It was part of her job.

It was just different with Jane. Because of their… history. Not to mention whatever the hell they'd been doing lately.

It was a bit overwhelming was all. And Lisbon couldn't help feeling relieved that their relationship had never been serious. After all, Jane had almost been killed more than once. And that wasn't really even including the vendetta against a dangerous serial killer. And she'd meant it when she said that if Red John got him again, he probably wasn't coming back. It was something she tried not to think about. Mainly because she really wasn't equipped to deal with any of it.

Friends. She could have friends. She repeated that over and over in her head sometimes. Because maybe she could genuinely do that. Maybe she could relax just a little.

Actually, not maybe. She glanced at him again and let herself acknowledge what she'd been half-denying for weeks now.

Patrick Jane was the best friend she had. Things had been strained between them lately while they found their footing with each other again. But... he was still the one who was there when wanted to talk, or just didn't want to be alone. He was always the one who was _there._

And she'd been terrified she'd lose him too.

So today, she was going to let herself be happy, allow herself to spend a carefree afternoon picking apples, with her _friend._

Like a normal person.

And when she did, she wasn't going to spend the entire day worrying about whether or not the world was not going to fall down around her ears.

After all, it was unlikely that even Jane would be involved in two dangerous fruit-related incidents in a week.

xxxxx

"That man was unnecessarily unpleasant," Jane insisted. "I was just being friendly."

"He did ask you to leave him alone," Lisbon reminded him.

"And I was complying," Jane insisted.

Lisbon rolled her eyes, "After explaining to him the precise, and deliberately long-buried, causes of his antisocial behaviour."

"I thought he might like to know," Jane defended.

She shook her head. "And you wonder why you get in so much trouble."

"Actually, I don't," Jane admitted.

She smirked.

"I do think throwing an apple at my head was a bit much," Jane added.

"Got you moving didn't it?" Lisbon teased.

"I suppose," Jane agreed grudgingly. "Although, what were you doing while all this was going on? Were you helping me? _No. _ Of course not. _Someone_ was too busy laughing."

"An elderly man was pelting you with apples!" Lisbon exclaimed. "What did you expect?"

"A little support!" Jane said petulantly.

"I do support you!" she cried indignantly. "When you're in actual danger and not humorously being chased through an apple orchard by an irate senior citizen."

Jane froze. "I know," he told her softly. "And I cause you nothing but problems, don't I?" he added lightly.

"You solve cases too," she said unevenly.

"So you say," he replied absently.

"Although now even your _solved_ cases are coming back to cause problems," Lisbon told him. "Which I hope does _not_ become a trend."

"Couldn't agree more," he nodded. "Though according to Rachel it was all my own fault."

"Jane," Lisbon said, reaching for his arm. "You can't blame yourself."

"Why can't I?" he wondered. "I did use her to help catch her father, without her consent."

"He was a murderer Jane, a criminal," Lisbon insisted.

"She said what I did was abusive," Jane said softly. It wasn't an accusation he would forget easily, even if he wouldn't have necessarily changed his tactics. Murderers and thieves did need to be caught after all.

"She felt betrayed," Lisbon told him. "It's understandable. And regrettable," she admitted. "But you were doing your job."

"I sent her into madness," Jane said.

"Hey," Lisbon said. "Yeah, you hurt her. I'm not going to lie Jane. But she made her own choices. She was the one who decided to resort to kidnapping and attempted murder. _She _was the one who decided to go on a crazy quest for revenge. She shares a lot of the blame here."

Jane almost smiled. She was about as subtle as brick through a window with her attempts at life lessons sometimes. "She accused me of treating her like a toy, of not caring one way or another about her," he admitted. And that had stung. Probably because sometimes he wondered if it was true. He knew he usually got caught up in his plans; he usually tried to keep collateral damage to a minimum, but...

Lisbon sighed and decided to just be honest. "Okay, yes, your approach can be problematic, and painful, and a million other things, and sometimes I wish it wasn't that way, but then, I guess that's the cost of doing business sometimes."

"So you wish I was different too then," he accused, reading between the lines.

"I didn't say that," she said with a shake of her head.

"You didn't have to," Jane told her.

"Jane..."

"I thought solving the cases was what you cared about," he added defensively. "You always say it is."

"It is what I care about," she insisted firmly. "Do I wish that people didn't get hurt along the way? Do I wish you were more diplomatic? Of course I do. But I don't know if you've noticed Jane, but the world isn't perfect." She'd looked at the available options and made her choice. She'd chosen him, unorthodox, occasionally destructive methods and all. Any way she looked at it, Jane was always the lesser of the two evils. Even if she did often wish his way was easier.

"Lisbon, I..."

"Do I wish you were more aware of the damage you leave in your wake sometimes?" she interrupted, not letting him wallow in self-pity. "Sure. But on the other hand, your near-insanity works. I try to find a balance to keep disaster away. Think about working on that yourself if it's bothering you."

"I don't _mean_ to..." Jane started to explain, feeling an odd need to justify himself to her.

"I know," she said, squeezing his arm. "But you do sometimes. Without realizing. You don't always see the people involved."

"You do," he whispered.

She shook her head. "Not always," she told him. "Sometimes we can't," she told him, deliberately grouping the two of them together. "If there's a chance I'm going to have to shoot someone by the end of the day, I can't be thinking that he's going to leave a daughter behind. It's the job, Jane. Your issue's just a little different than most peoples. Just... try and see the victims when you can."

"I won't promise," he told her.

"I didn't ask you to," she said gently. "It was more of a friendly suggestion."

He nodded, and glanced off into the distance. Then he turned back around, "Well _friend,_" he said cheerfully. "Did you feel the need to pick any more apples this lovely afternoon?"

"Nah," Lisbon said with a grin, perfectly willing to let the subject slide. With Jane it was always better to plant the seed of an idea and then let him mull it over on his own anyway. "I think I'm good."

"Makes sense, since we've got about two full baskets between us now," Jane said, glancing over their apples.

"Yup," Lisbon agreed pleasantly, enjoying the scenery.

"You ready to head out then?" Jane asked.

"Sure," Lisbon agreed, allowing herself a smile.

"Okay."

"Hey Jane?" she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

He turned towards her.

"You were right; it was a nice way to spend an afternoon. So thanks," she said, telling herself (unsuccessfully) not to blush.

His grin doubled in size. "You're welcome Lisbon."

She bit her lip. "So, what're we going to do with all of these apples then?" she asked, abruptly changing the subject.

"Well," Jane said slowly. "I thought we'd eat some of them."

She swatted him in the arm. "All of them?" she asked. "Before they go bad?"

"Apples take a while to go bad," he couldn't resist pointing out.

"Oh, never mind," she muttered. "Forget I asked."

"But I also thought I might make apple crisp," Jane continued happily.

Lisbon glanced up at him suddenly hopeful.

He laughed. "Subtle, Teresa."

"What?" she asked innocently.

He raised his eyebrows.

She ignored that. "So when're you planning on making this apple crisp?" she wondered.

"And can you have some?" he supplied.

She shrugged. "If you wanted to be nice and _share..."_

"Actually," Jane said with a smile. "I thought I'd make it this afternoon."

Her eyes lit up. "Really?"

"And I was planning on using your stove. Thought it'd be a good opportunity to test whether or not it even still works," he added, ignoring her surprise. Making the apple crisp with her would be way more fun than making it alone. And that way she could have some fresh from the oven. Really, it was win-win.

Lisbon thwacked him in the arm again. "I _cook!_" she insisted. "Maybe not often, and I may not be some kind of gourmet chef, but I _have_ used my oven before, Patrick Jane. It works just fine."

"Of course," he agreed. "We'll probably have to stop by the supermarket since you almost certainly don't have the ingredients..."

"I have the apples!" she countered, gesturing to the basket in her arms.

"True," he agreed. "Guess we'll just have to get the rest."

"Guess so," she agreed, as they walked companionably back to the car, carrying their little harvest, and both perfectly willing to prolong their afternoon.

Neither of them was ready to let the other get too far away.

Not just yet.

xxxxx

The end

xxxxx

A/N: Alright, so admittedly, I don't know if pick-your-own apples is a thing. But you can pick your own strawberries and blueberries and whatnot. So let's assume it happens, at least for the purposes of the fic, okay? Okay.


	9. Post 309: Toss a card, any card

A/N: So this post-ep was difficult. This ep brings up so many issues and it's basically impossible to do all of them justice. I touched on a few and figured that was good enough. Most of the issues this ep highlights recur in the series anyway.

This isn't one of my favourites, and it isn't the post-ep I was anticipating writing. However, that post-ep didn't _want_ to be written, so I gave up and went with this instead. I do think it turned out better than I was expecting it would, especially considering how uninspired I was. I think I like it, and I hope you enjoy it too.

I can't believe I've already written nine of these things. Reviews of this chapter or even thoughts on the direction of the whole series are always appreciated.

xxxxx

Post 3.09: Toss a card, any card

xxxxx

Lisbon walked up to the attic.

She knew her consultant was still in the building. She'd heard from the PSU that Jane had finished his interview with them hours ago. Yes, she'd checked. That was just common sense at this point; with Jane there was a very good chance that he'd simply decide not to meet with them, just to be contrary.

Well, mainly to be contrary. The subject matter of the visit would obviously have been upsetting as well.

Thank God Jane was pretty much above suspicion for the murder. Lisbon could give him an alibi herself.

It was a small mercy, but she was clinging to it right now.

Because some cases really sucked.

A cop killer. A Jane-trap. A sociopath. A supposedly grieving fiancé pretending to be motivated by revenge.

She'd known this one was going to be trouble, right from the start.

Lisbon couldn't help wondering how long Jane had known Todd Johnson was a killer. Jane had obviously been goading the man into getting vengeance the entire case, obviously setting up for a fall. Not that Johnson had needed much goading. But _honestly_, telling an apparently grieving fiancé that there were times when revenge was a swell plan? She'd figured that was just _Jane_ at the time, but now she wasn't so sure. Especially since he'd later offered to convince him not to pursue his revenge so the man could go free. She'd _known_ all along that had been part of a con. (And Jane had known she'd known.) What she hadn't known was that Johnson was the killer.

But she'd have to be a fool to think Jane would have changed his mind on revenge so completely. And she wasn't a fool, though she may have been many things, especially when it came to Patrick Jane.

Heaven knows what Jane had said to Todd in the attic. Lisbon suspected it was something she'd rather not hear herself.

She knew he hadn't been talking _down_ vengeance.

And Hightower had supported him.

In the end he'd caught the killer of course; but Hightower couldn't have possibly foreseen that. She certainly hadn't seen the value in driving home the idea that the CBI really couldn't endorse vengeance campaigns. To Jane.

Sometimes Lisbon really wished it was socially acceptable to shout at people until they saw sense (though she wasn't sure whether she'd have started with her boss or her consultant).

Most of the time she just accepted that there were things she couldn't change and took her lumps, but _honestly._

And there was more to this than met the eye. More to it even than reinforcing Jane's dangerous ideas about revenge.

Because Todd Johnson had a secret that he wanted to tell Jane, and Jane alone.

He'd simply died before he could tell it.

And it had been enough of a secret that Jane had basically camped out at the hospital to figure it out. Which made sense, the man _had_ been set on fire right before he told it.

So yeah, Lisbon knew something was going on.

She had no idea what. And she knew Jane wouldn't tell her.

He wouldn't even tell her that he was upset. He'd all but refused to talk to her at all at the hospital when she'd offered support. It'd been subtle, and mostly unsaid, but she'd gotten the message loud and clear. So she settled for telling him the PSU needed to speak to him and leaving.

Lisbon hadn't expected him to confide in her of course. Not really. Even if the two of them were closer now. Some things never changed.

But that didn't mean it didn't sting, just a little.

And it also didn't mean she wasn't at least going to check on him.

Any time serial killers or the idea getting revenge became an issue, Jane was always a bit unstable.

Teresa Lisbon was determined to control the revenge situation (what she'd sarcastically sometimes taken to calling Jane's murderous intentions in her mind to help keep herself sane) as best she could, to keep Jane safe, though everything (and everyone) constantly conspired against her. She struggled for control, even if half of it was just hope. And she made sure to sound more confident about everything whenever it came up than she felt. It was the best way of dealing with Jane. She knew he was capable of murder, though she'd never tell him that.

It would only encourage him.

That was the last thing he needed.

Lisbon opened the door to the attic softly.

Surprisingly, Jane wasn't lying in his makeshift bed as he so often was.

Instead, he was sitting against the wall tossing playing cards, one by one, into a bowl on the floor a couple of metres away.

He didn't say anything when she walked in the door, which told her more about his mood than anything else could have.

Wordlessly she walked over to the bowl, grabbed a bunch of the cards in it and sat down on the opposite wall, stretching her legs out in front of her (consciously mirroring his position). Then she started tossing cards into the same bowl, in between his throws.

For a few minutes there was no sound but the thwapping of playing cards hitting the inside of the bowl and the odd thunk of one hitting the side and dropping to the floor.

"Figures that you'd have been on the basketball team in high school," Jane said after a moment, almost irritated at her degree of skill. She'd barely missed a card since she'd sat down.

She shrugged. "I may be short, but I'm quick."

"So you weaved around them, sneaked through," her surmised. Figured. She was good at that.

"Something like that," Lisbon agreed.

Jane smirked; "Always so competitive, weren't you?"

"Maybe."

"Unsurprising."

"Hey," she said, deliberately lightening her tone. "It's made me pretty damn good at card tossing."

"You mean that's not just thanks to boring night shifts?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Lisbon nodded her head slightly, acknowledging the point with a smile. "Well, that certainly _helped_…"

"Whereas my abilities are thanks to about a hundred different carnival games," Jane said by way of comparison.

"To each their own," Lisbon said with a shrug.

"Hm."

"You planning on going home anytime soon?" she asked him after a minute

"Are you?" Jane countered quickly.

But she stuck to her guns, albeit childishly. "I asked you first," Lisbon shot back.

"Something that only matters if your answer is dependent on mine," Jane pointed out.

She raised her eyebrows at him.

Jane shut his eyes briefly. He'd walked right into that. "Lisbon…"

"It was _just_ a question Jane," she said with slightly exaggerated innocence.

He felt himself smile before he could help it. "No it wasn't," he said affectionately.

"It wasn't your fault you know," Lisbon said, changing the subject slightly.

Jane briefly considered keeping a tally of the number of cases Lisbon said that to him afterwards. He doubted he'd like the percentage. "I didn't say it was."

"Yet you're up here brooding."

"I walked into a room to find a man who'd been set _on fire_, Lisbon" Jane said, a touch of incredulity in his voice.

She nodded. "I know."

"I would have thought that would be reason enough to be _brooding_ as you call it." He hoped she accepted that explanation. He _needed _her to accept that explanation because he couldn't afford to tell her the truth, the real reason behind his brooding.

He couldn't tell her that Todd Johnson had known something about Red John. That the cop killing might really all be related to Red John. Two quotations from the same William Blake poem was no coincidence. Jane suspected Todd had done that as a taunt, knowing he wouldn't have time to say anymore. Jane couldn't burden Lisbon with that knowledge. For one, she knew too much already, for another, it put her in danger. Plus, he didn't like the idea of giving her a more complete picture of what was in his head. She already thought she was in control of the Red John situation. Or hoped she was at least. She even thought she might be able to sway him when the time came. The very idea terrified him.

Because how his plans would affect her had already crossed his mind more times than he cared to admit.

And the fact that she didn't come out doing well afterwards caused him almost physical pain.

Oh, he wasn't going to _change_ his goal for her. But he'd thought about it. And that was bad enough.

He couldn't think about that. He needed to try and keep his focus on Red John. This was his fight.

He'd told Todd that to get your revenge you had to conceal what was in your heart, close yourself off.

Sure, the speech had been part of a con to lure Todd into a trap (since Jane had been pretty much convinced the man was a sociopath at that point), but it had also been the truth.

It was always easiest to trap people with the truth, even if that truth didn't actually apply to them.

Jane was doing a truly terrible job at heeding the second part of his own advice though (he couldn't quite close himself off from _her_); he definitely needed to make sure he perfected the first.

He couldn't let Lisbon see what he was thinking. It would only cause her pain.

And he couldn't let Red John see what he was thinking.

If the serial killer ever got wind of what he thought about the woman sitting across from him…

The same woman who apparently found it perfectly normal to visit a cold, dark attic in the middle of the night and toss cards into a bowl.

Lisbon had just walked in, picked up half the deck and slipped into his rhythm.

It shouldn't have been comforting.

He watched Lisbon staring him, waiting for a reply. But she said nothing.

At the very least she didn't object to what he was doing out loud. She was letting him work it out in his head a little first. Because she knew him.

Oh god, she _knew_ him.

Too well.

In all honesty, Jane wasn't sure if she believed that his only reason for brooding was that he'd seen a man killed, but at least she wasn't pushing him about it. He was thankful for small mercies.

He needed more time to wrap his head around what had happened before he was quite up to having it out with Lisbon.

He'd known that there was something off about Todd right from the start. It took a certain kind of detachment, of singularity of purpose to listen to someone who worked for law enforcement, even someone like him who wasn't actually a police officer tell you that you needed to lie to escape arrest so you could get your revenge. Of course, it'd all been part of a plan. He'd needed Todd out of prison so he could lead him into a trap. But _still_.

On the other hand, if Todd hadn't been a sociopathic killer, he wouldn't have been in a position where he'd need to be told how to carry out his revenge. Although, there really hadn't been any need for revenge, since Todd himself was the murder. So it was probably all a moot point.

He wondered what Lisbon thought about it all.

Whatever she thought, she didn't seem inclined to bring up the subject. (And he wasn't brave enough to talk either. The risk outweighed the rewards at the moment.)

Having exhausted her cards Lisbon leaned forward and grabbed the deck from inside the basket. She arranged them neatly before handing him half.

And with that their rhythm started again.

"So," Lisbon said after a moment. "See any good movies lately?"

He almost laughed.

"In my ample free time?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Hey, you disappear from the building for hours on end, doing who knows what; I've stopped asking. For all I know you're at the movie theatre."

"Yes, that's right Lisbon," he said with a smirk. "I duck out and catch the latest blockbusters from time to time, usually in the middle of a case."

"Any of them worth seeing?" she asked.

"Nah," he told her. "They're all too predictable."

"Shame," she said, continuing to toss her cards.

She wasn't leaving. She had not even the slightest intention of it. Not until he left, either to his own apartment or to her couch, she didn't care which. But he wasn't staying in the attic alone all night. Something was bothering him. She didn't know exactly _what_, but something. Jane had known something was strange about the case from the start. He'd said as much in that orchard, after she'd been almost killed by a wild dear. Lisbon had deliberately been keeping a close eye on Jane all case. She wasn't going to stop now.

Which was why she was sitting on a cold floor tossing cards into her bowl opposite an uncommunicative consultant.

Jane sighed, lost in his own thoughts again. What a case.

Something had twigged in his brain the second he walked into the field. Something was _wrong_, and not just the usual wrong of a dead body. Very wrong.

Turns out it had been something to do with Red John. Probably.

The serial killer had an uncanny ability to draw him in. Jane didn't like it.

And this was different, an accomplice serial killer of sorts. Jane had thought Red John worked alone, at least when it came to killing people. Although he had ordered Rebecca to kill Bosco and his team so...

They had a possible network of serial killers on their hands.

Lovely.

And just how involved was Red John in all this?

Did he pick the victims?

_All_ of the victims?

Jane couldn't help wondering if the choice of targets was deliberate.

His mind had been going over the Todd Johnson case in his head for hours now.

What was the connection between a small-town paramedic and Red John? Other than the fact that they were both complete sociopaths?

Where had the two met?

Was Red John really the head of a network of serial killers? Or was it just Todd and a select few? Where Todd's kills part of Red John's plan? And if so, why was Red John advocating cop-killing?

Who was Red John trying to taunt? Or punish?

Jane glanced at the woman seated across from him and tried not to panic.

Red John. Possibly targeting cops. It was a terrifying precedent.

"What?" Lisbon asked suddenly.

He shook his head, realizing he'd probably let his thoughts show on his face. "Just thinking."

"I don't suppose you'd tell me what about?" she asked, though she was almost certain he wouldn't.

"That it might be worth going and seeing a movie, just to surprise you," he told her lightly.

She snickered, deciding to pretend (for the moment) that she believed him. "Yeah, that'd really throw me through a loop," she told him. "Really shake up my worldview. I don't know how I'd even get through the day, so overwhelming would the shock be."

"Oh hush," he told her affectionately.

"You hush."

"You hush."

They both hushed.

Thwap.

Thwap.

Thunk.

"You missed."

"Yes, thank you Teresa. I had noticed that," Jane said with mild irritation.

Thwap.

"I was just telling you," Lisbon replied evenly.

Thwap.

Jane nodded, "I do have eyes."

Thwap.

"Yes you do" she agreed.

Thwap.

"Meaning that I can see," Jane pointed out.

Thwap.

"Barely," Lisbon muttered. "In this light."

Thwap.

"My eyes have adjusted," he told he airily.

"Hmph."

Thwap.

Thwap.

"I'm running out of cards," Lisbon muttered.

Thwap.

"Me too," Jane agreed.

Thwap.

Thunk.

"Ha," Jane said triumphantly.

"Don't gloat," Lisbon told him.

Thwap.

"A bit hypocritical, don't you think, dear?" he asked.

Thwap.

"I didn't gloat," she reminded him haughtily. "I just pointed out when you missed the bowl. It was an observation."

Thwap.

"Your gloating was implied," Jane told her.

Thwap.

"It was not!" Lisbon objected indignantly.

Thwap.

"Course not," Jane agreed with a grin.

Thwap.

She scowled.

Thunk.

Her scowl turned into a smirk.

"Oh hush, woman" he murmured.

Thwap.

"I didn't say anything," she said.

Thwap.

"My powers of perception are such that you no longer need to speak for me to understand your meaning," Jane told her.

Thwap.

Lisbon ignored that. "If I _was_ going to say something, I'm sure it would have been something along the lines of pride going before the fall."

Thwap.

"But clearly you had _no_ intention of saying anything," Jane said.

Thwap.

"_Clearly._"

Thwap.

Thwap.

"I'm out of cards," Lisbon said matter-of-factly.

Thwap.

"I see that," Jane said. He wasn't surprised. He only had a couple left himself.

"It's your turn to get them," Lisbon informed him.

Thwap.

"Is it?" he asked her amused.

Thwap.

"Yes."

"And if I don't?" he asked curiously.

She stared at him for a minute. "Then I guess we're going to sit here for a while doing nothing, until I get fed up and go back to my office, where there are lights and heat."

Jane considered that for a second.

He made a point of not always doing exactly as she asked most of the time, just to keep her on her toes, but on the other hand he didn't want her to leave. And she might, leave that is. Not the building, he was fairly sure of that, but his attic. So Jane gave an exaggerated sigh before getting up, collecting the cards, and solemnly handing her half the deck.

Her lip quirked up in thanks.

She waited until he was settled opposite her again before resuming her tossing.

Thwap.

Thwap.

Their rhythm was almost soothing really, Jane thought.

He studied her surreptitiously.

His partner in defeating crime. She _was_ his partner really, the one he always chose to help him with his plans whenever possible. Always Lisbon. He loved setting up traps to catch her killer for her, while she simultaneously tried to figure out what he was doing. It was becoming a private (if unspoken) little game between the two of them, seeing who could figure things out first. And he liked impressing her when he could. She was hard to impress.

It wouldn't have been nearly as much fun setting up his elaborate traps without her around to help him close them.

He remembered visiting her hotel room in the middle of the night to fetch her. She hadn't been happy with him, but she'd come. She always did.

His mind flashed back to Teresa Lisbon in her sleepwear, the sports jersey. Chicago, of course, though the team hadn't been what he'd focussed on. He'd been too busy trying not to look at her (and failing miserably).

Luckily she'd been too tired to notice.

Sleepy Lisbon was an awfully alluring sight, even if she was grumpy.

But then, she almost always was. He snuck another glance her way.

She wasn't exactly captivating; her personality wasn't what you'd call magnetic. She was something else entirely, something subtler. And she was definitely alluring. Different. Even enchanting.

She was a woman who would sit in the dark tossing cards into a bowl with a friend on a bad day.

Because she knew he was upset, but he didn't want to talk about it.

He wondered what else she saw about him.

He was worried that she _did_ see the truth. That she knew what he wanted; how deep his desire for revenge went. She had to know he was keeping things from her. He didn't think she knew what, though she probably had her suspicions. He'd probably kept that much from her.

He was terrified that she didn't see another truth, didn't understand. That she had no idea how much he cared about her. Part of him really wished she did. Except that what if Red John found out?

And it was all so selfish anyway.

He was going to commit murder, or be murdered.

That was almost a certainty.

And he refused to lie to her about Red John.

He didn't like lying to her. He really didn't. He hadn't even lied to her when she'd guessed that Todd's apparent change of heart had been all bluff.

He just couldn't for some reason.

She deserved that.

But he especially couldn't lie to her about Red John. He had to make sure she understood.

It would probably be better if he _could_, lie about it that is. There was far less chance of her stopping him if she thought he was beginning to have doubts about committing murder.

Jane knew it was going to crush her when he killed the monster (which was something he'd really prefer not to think about).

It was why he couldn't lie to her about it.

He'd cost her so much already.

But he also couldn't change his mind.

_He couldn't._

Thwap.

Thwap.

"I'm out of cards again," Lisbon said.

Thwap.

"Me too," Jane agreed.

"Do I want to know how you managed to divide the deck exactly equally?" she wondered.

"It's a gift," he said with a shrug.

She rolled her eyes.

"I believe it's your turn to get the cards," he prodded.

"Jane," she said.

"Yes Lisbon?"

"I'm hungry," she told him.

He tried not to be disappointed. Of course she was. It was getting late. She had a life. Of course she wanted to leave.

"I want pizza," she continued.

"Rigsby would be proud," he said lightly.

"Do you want any?" she asked. "We could split it. If we ordered it now it'd be at my place around the time we got there."

He started decline before hesitating.

"We could bring the cards. Maybe even play some poker," Lisbon cajoled, knowing he was wavering and she almost had him. "You can sleep on my couch afterwards, since it'll be late."

Jane stared at her. She'd trapped him. That was all there was to it. She'd come up here, gotten him used to her company, and now she was taunting him with an evening in her company, one that included gambling _and_ greasy food. Vixen.

_Although_... Maybe he did need a break, a distraction from his jumbled thoughts. He wasn't going to make any headway tonight anyway. Maybe it would even help his subconscious mind sort a few things out.

He met her eyes, saw the worry, the silent plea. Saw his friend, the woman who cared about him.

"Only if the pizza's Hawaiian," he told her.

Lisbon smiled. Her favourite. "Okay."

Jane rose, grabbed the cards and offered her a hand to help her up before ushering her out of the attic.

He'd let her win this round, ease her mind for one night.

Maybe he couldn't give her Red John, but he could give her this.

He hoped it was enough. For both of them.

xxxxxx

The end


	10. Post 310: All snug in their beds

A/N: Alright, this starts a new sort of a section in this series. (Yes, I have mental sections in my head. I can't help it.) I kind of like this one. But I'm beginning to think my judgement is highly suspect where this sort of thing is concerned, because I wasn't sure I liked the last one as much as some of the others (though I did still like it), but other people seemed to disagree (which clearly I am delighted by, don't get me wrong. I'm glad people are liking this).

So, feel free to disregard my opinions. I do enjoy this one though. It features drunk!Jane.

xxxxx

Post 3.10: All snug in their beds

xxxxx

Jane stared out at the lights in the distance, letting them drift ever so slightly out of focus. They were prettier that way.

He could afford to relax a little bit now. LaRoche was gone.

J.J._ LaRoche._ Who, from the sounds of it, was not all that willing to discuss case theory with him. Yet.

Jane would need to work on that. Or at least find some way of getting around the issue.

The consultant frowned slightly; he'd have to deal with LaRoche later.

He couldn't focus very well right now.

The alcohol was starting to hit him harder, probably because more of it had been absorbed into his bloodstream by now.

He most likely could have fought the feeling of fuzziness if he'd really wanted to (yet another biofeedback trick). But the misty feeling was a nice change. Everything felt less crucial.

And, unlike a lot of drunk people, he didn't have to worry about someone trying to take advantage of him in his inebriated state.

J.J. was already gone, which meant that soon _she_ would be back.

"Hey."

He smirked; he'd known she'd come.

He felt a hand on his arm. "Jane, you still with me?" Lisbon asked in concern.

Jane turned, shaking away any final thoughts about LaRoche and suddenly beaming at his new (and infinitely preferable) companion. "Of course, Lisbon."

Lisbon seemed surprised at his sudden change in demeanour. She bit her lip to try to stifle her own smile. It didn't work.

"Well, then come on," she told him. "Let's get you home."

"Okay," Jane agreed easily. He didn't want to sit outside all evening after all. It was getting cold. He started to stand, but found he was more unsteady on his feet than he'd been expecting. He stumbled slightly against the table just before he felt Lisbon's arm under his, steadying before he even had a chance to brace himself against a possible fall.

He leant into the offered support. She hadn't touched him in a while (not beyond a swat in the arm, or the odd touch to get his attention at least).

"Easy," she murmured, steadying him slightly.

"Thanks," he replied.

"Course," she said. "You okay?"

Jane straightened slowly. "Think so," he said tentatively. He was pleased when Lisbon obviously didn't believe him, and stuck to his side like glue (probably afraid he'd topple right over if she didn't). Jane grinned. It was one of the few times her habitual distrust had worked so solidly in his favour.

And, if she was offering to act as physical support, then he had no scruples in taking her up on the offer.

Jane draped his arm around her shoulders again. She responded by wrapping an arm around his waist.

He actually felt much more secure.

"Come on," Lisbon told him. "SUV's over here."

Obediently, he let her lead.

"So, how was your chat with LaRoche?" she asked curiously (with just a hint of concern underneath).

He waved a hand randomly through the air. "Oh, fine," he assured her. "This time I really didn't do anything wrong, Lisbon." Other than conceal that Todd Johnson probably had a connection to Red John, but J.J. didn't need to know that (nor did Lisbon). It certainly wouldn't help the new head of the P.S.U. catch his killer. Especially since he may be the mole himself.

"That's a nice change," Lisbon said dryly. "Did LaRoche believe you?"

"Think so!" Jane replied cheerfully. "He's not so bad."

"I never said he was," she reminded him. LaRoche's manner was off-putting, but she hadn't heard anything to turn her against the man, other than the fact that he was interrogating her people.

Jane seemed to realize that. "You had that look," he said triumphantly.

She smirked, "What look?"

"The look you get whenever anyone so much as thinks about touching one of your team members. And ole' JJ's already had a few of your people in his office," Jane reminded her.

"He's just doing his job," Lisbon said calmly.

Jane turned slightly towards her. "Were you worried about me Teresa?"

"You're drunk," she said, side-stepping the question.

Jane didn't see how _that_ was relevant. "Yup."

"You shouldn't be questioned while drunk," Lisbon explained patiently. "And I don't like LaRoche taking advantage of that, or accosting my people at crime scenes, but if that's how he wants to get the job done..."

Jane squeezed her shoulder slightly. "You don't need to worry about me T'resa."

"Did I say I was?" she asked quickly.

"No."

"Exactly," she said decisively.

Jane quirked his head towards her. "But you are all the same," he said as if he was conveying a secret.

"Jane..."

"It's okay Lisbon. And you don't need to protect me from the big bad LaRoche," Jane assured her again. "I don't think he's after me."

"Jane..."

"It's very nice of you to look out for me though," he said, babbling over her attempted interruptions. "Very reassuring and all that. Good to know that... Who's going to protect you?"

"What?" Lisbon asked, his rapid subject change catching her off guard.

"From LaRoche," Jane clarified.

She rolled her eyes. "I don't _need_ protecting from LaRoche. I didn't do anything wrong either."

"Hmm."

"_I didn't_," she insisted.

"Hmm?" Jane murmured again. "Oh, I know. I was just..." He thought Lisbon did need someone to protect her. Just in case. From people who might hurt her. Just like she kept an eye on him. Just in case. Well, he was already very observant anyway... It was his little secret project.

"Jane?" Lisbon prompted.

"Yes?"

"You kind of drifted off there," she smirked.

"What?"

She sighed, accepting that she'd probably never know what he was thinking. Prying information out of Jane at the best of times was difficult; prying it out of him when he was drunk and his mind drifted all over the place was proving to be near impossible. On the other hand, the fact that he was pretty damn drunk meant that the information probably wasn't important. He was pretty spaced out. "We're at the car," she told him helpfully.

Jane focussed on the vehicle in front of him. "So we are!"

"Do you maybe want to maybe get in it?" she asked sarcastically.

"Certainly," Jane chirped.

She rolled her eyes as she held the door open for him. "And do up your seatbelt!" she ordered as she shut the door behind him.

Lisbon walked briskly around to the driver's side, got in and started the SUV.

Jane leaned against the window and watched her lazily. (Though he did do up his seatbelt first.)

"What?" she eventually asked uncomfortably.

"What, what?"

"You're _staring_," Lisbon pointed out.

"I'm _observing_," he corrected. "It's my job."

"Yeah, well, you're off the clock, so feel free to stop," she ordered.

"I wasn't off the duty ten minutes ago when LaRoche tried to question me," Jane countered.

Lisbon sighed. "You would have been if I'd had anything to say about it."

"Oh, now Lisbon, I told you, _it was fine,_" Jane reminded her.

"I've found over the years that your definition of 'fine' is often very different than mine," she muttered.

He poked her in the arm. "This time our definitions are the same, I _promise_," he assured her.

"Okay," she breathed, deciding to let it go. To her irritation, Jane continued to watch her beneath half-closed eyelids. "What?" she asked again.

"I like your hair like that," he murmured. "It suits you."

"I... what?" she stammered.

"You don't take compliments very well, Teresa," he told her. "And you're probably blushing."

Damn it, she was. She could feel it on her face.

"I could teach you a way to control that," Jane continued. "Make it stop. Simple biofeedback trick."

"Really?"

"But I don't want to," he added, as if she hadn't spoken.

"Oh for Pete's sakes..." she muttered.

"You're also very economical in your movements," Jane continued, following a train of thought more meandering than usual. "I've noticed."

"Have you?" she asked stupidly, unsure of what else to say.

"Yes," he told her.

"Well..."

"This car is very comfortable," he told her. "Although I'm not sure the movement is really helping with the dizziness..."

She glanced over, trying not to be concerned. "You're feeling dizzy?" she asked. "How dizzy?"

"Eh," Jane said dismissively. "Hard to say. Maybe it's not so much dizzy as fuzzy. Or some other word ending in 'zy'. The feeling's interesting. I haven't gotten drunk in a while."

"Why am I not surprised?" Lisbon asked rhetorically, glad his conversation had taken a turn away from her, and her physical appearance. _Of course_ Jane would be a chatty drunk. Although, given his personality that was probably way better than him being morose, angry or bitter. She didn't even want to imagine _that_ right now.

"You're not surprised, because _you_, Lisbon, are _smart_," he informed her.

"Ah."

Jane suddenly started playing with the power windows, watching in apparent fascination as he lowered the glass an inch and then back up, only to repeat the process every fifteen seconds or so.

"Jane?"

"Yes Teresa?"

"Whatcha doing?" she asked, with a laugh in her voice.

"Well," he explained. "The fresh air feels nice, clears the brain."

"Right..."

"But it's also cold," he added. "So then I have to close the window."

"I see," she told him.

"Do you?" he wondered.

"No, but you're drunk," she told him easily.

"Maybe a little," he admitted with a goofy grin. "Am I making you cold?"

"I'm fine," she assured him dryly.

"Good. You were almost _late_ today," he said suddenly.

She sighed. "Jane, I'm so sorry about that, honestly." She was trying not to think about that too much. She'd already been feeling guilty. They'd literally arrived in the nick of time to save him. Thank god she'd finally remembered how the stupid maze of hallways worked. Stupid building was so confusing it was a hazard.

"Next time you can be the one to almost get stuck with a needle in the belly button," he said petulantly.

She gripped the steering wheel tighter than was strictly necessary. "I think I'll pass."

"She was trying to kill _me!"_ Jane reminded her.

"And now she's going to prison," Lisbon said calmly.

"Hmph."

"And you're okay," Lisbon added. She'd already repeated it to herself a few times, it felt natural to remind Jane himself. "We got there in time."

"Yeah, you saved me," Jane agreed, suddenly cheerful again. "You n' Cho n' Rigsby. Bursting into the room all cop-like. It was very impressive Lisbon. Scared the crazy nurse, that's for sure."

"Great," Lisbon smirked.

"I don't think I like going undercover," Jane admitted. Between nearly getting killed and the emotionally draining AA meeting, he hadn't been having the best week.

"Hey," Lisbon told him. "Both times you went undercover were _your_ idea."

"You would bring that up..." Jane grumbled. "In my vulnerable state."

"You seem to be alright," Lisbon said lightly.

"Hmph."

She smirked. "Here we are," she said, turning into the driveway.

Jane turned his attention away from her and back to the outside. He blinked. "This isn't my home."

"No," Lisbon agreed easily. "It's mine. You said to take you home. Well, sort of. You didn't specify whose."

"T'reeesaaa…"

She ignored his drunken objection. "I didn't feel like hauling you all the way up into your own apartment on whatever damn floor it is, and then having to find your keys. This was easier all around. Now are you coming? Or are you spending the night in the car?"

"Dunno why we had to take your car." Jane muttered, feeling the need to challenge her (as he often did whenever she took control of things).

"Because while I let you drive me around in that bucket of bolts, I draw the line at driving it myself," Lisbon explained.

"My car is _fine. _It just requires finesse, gentleness. Worried you can't handle it?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

She smirked and took the bait. "Worried it can't handle me."

Jane smiled in appreciation, before frowning over another stray thought. "Why?" he asked. "You can be gentle. You're doing it now."

He would chose to take her teasing comment seriously. "Jane…"

"Y'are," Jane insisted, taking her hand. "You going to let me sleep on your couch?"

"That was the plan," she admitted.

"With my own special pillow?" he double-checked.

"Yup."

Jane considered that, stopping dead on the path to her front door. "Okay," he said after a minute.

"So glad you approve," Lisbon said as she unlocked her front door.

"I don't think you care about my opinion at all," Jane observed.

Lisbon almost laughed. "Since you can only just form coherent sentences right now, no, your judgement isn't exactly top of my list of things to take into account."

Her consultant considered that for a moment. "Well, that seems sensible."

"Thank you."

He reached for her hand as she ushered him into her apartment. "You didn't have to do this Teresa."

She sighed, deciding to ignore the near-constant use of her first name. "I wasn't going to leave you alone Jane. I don't care what that doctor said. Someone should watch you tonight."

"Oooh... Are you going to be my nurse?" he asked in delight.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm going to pretend that I didn't hear that."

"I didn't mean it like… Lisbon! Where did your mind go?" he wondered, if possible looking even happier.

Lisbon mentally cursed herself for walking into that one. "Hush."

"You hush."

"No, _you_ hush."

"Will not," Jane said contrarily.

But his two-year old behaviour was enough to put her back at her ease. "Of course not."

"No fun in that, Teresa," Jane explained with a grin.

"Ah."

"Ah," Jane mocked.

Lisbon tossed her keys in a bowl and hung up her coat. She turned to Jane to see if he wanted her to hang his jacket only to see him staring around her apartment intently.

"You don't have any Christmas decorations up," he said before she could even ask what was bothering him _now_.

She sighed. He would notice that, "No, I don't."

"_Lisbon..._"

"_Jane,_" she countered. "Unlike all the stores, I refuse to put my Christmas decorations up before Thanksgiving."

"Thanksgiving's passed," Jane said pedantically.

She scowled. "You know what I mean."

"Still..."

"I haven't gotten around to it," Lisbon said quickly, hoping that would be the end of the conversation.

"Liar," Jane said succinctly.

His directness surprised her. "What?"

But his mood had already shifted. "You should put up Christmas decorations Lisbon," he said gently.

"I will," she promised, in a second attempt to end the conversation.

"_Teresa._"

His judgemental tone aggravated her. "Oh, like you're the spirit of Christmas."

"What happened?" he asked gently, ignoring the verbal attack.

"Life happened," she snapped.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly.

She took a breath. He was drunk. She was sober. She needed to remember that and maybe cut hi a little slack. "No, I'm sorry."

"Teresa..."

"I don't hate Christmas," she assured him.

Jane moved closer to her, trying to convey some sort of reassurance through osmosis through the air. "I never said you did."

"I just..." she struggled for an explanation. "I don't love all the trappings."

"Guess I'll have to return that motion-censored singing Santa Claus then," Jane joked gently. "And based on your reaction to the one in Santa Bernard's apartment I thought you'd love it. Just when I thought my Christmas shopping was done."

"You're way ahead of me then," she told him easily, as she poured him a glass of water. "I haven't even started my shopping yet."

He shrugged. "It's not that big an accomplishment in my case; it's not that big a list."

The light in her eyes faded as she handed him the water.

Jane took it with a fake smile. It was true. There was a CBI Secret Santa. That was usually the extent of his Christmas shopping. Who else would he buy for? He eyed her over the top of his glass, trying not to look worried about her.

Her.

Of course her. He needed to get Lisbon a present. He wouldn't tell her that though. It would be a surprise. She'd like that, even if she pretended not to.

He grinned at her.

Looks like the number of people he had to buy for had just doubled. Unless he drew her in the Secret Santa, in which case he'd just have to buy her _two_ presents.

Lisbon looked confused by his sudden change in demeanour, but that seemed to be par for the course that evening.

Before she could say anything Jane was scanning her apartment a second time. "Wait, why don't you have decorations up again?"

Lisbon sighed. "Jane..."

"It'd make your apartment cosier, even with all the boxes. And you need a tree," he told her, suddenly quite taken with the idea. "A little one. Like in Charlie Brown. Something for you to take care of."

"I've just never been much for Christmas, okay?" Lisbon told him. "Especially since I moved out west."

Jane turned towards her curiously.

She sighed and stamped her foot. Then she realized that she wouldn't mind actually telling him. "I used to make it as big a deal as I could, for my younger brothers. Which was never very big. But I did it for them. And then I moved away."

He stared at her, understanding dawning (albeit a little more slowly than it would have if he hadn't consumed a fair bit of alcohol). "Add that to your Santa-related trauma," he murmured.

"I had to grow up quickly Jane," Lisbon defended. "Losing Santa just happened a couple of years before the rest of it. I don't know," she said looking deliberately away from him. "Sometimes that Christmas when I realized the stories weren't real just seems like the start of everything. Or maybe the end, depending on how you look at it."

When Jane didn't say anything right away, Lisbon glanced in his direction only to be confronted by a face full of grey vest.

Jane had in her a bear hug. Only, unlike all of his other kamikaze hugs, he hadn't released her as quickly as he'd grabbed her.

He was holding on.

Actually, he wasn't just holding on. He was rubbing small, but (what he obviously considered to be) soothing circles on her back with one hand.

Probably because she was still standing stiff as a poker.

Letting out a breath, Lisbon slowly relaxed into his arms, tentatively placing her own around his waist.

Jane hummed his approval and Lisbon stopped trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

It... it was nice. Everything was so screwed up. It was always so screwed up, with LaRoche, and Hightower, and Jane, and Red John, and Kristina Frye, and her family, and now even Santa Claus was getting murdered. And damn it all, this was nice.

Being held actually felt good.

Even if it was only because Jane was a friendly drunk.

Lisbon let herself turn her head slightly closer, noting when she did that she could smell an odd mixture of alcohol and Jane's cologne.

It really shouldn't have been a comforting smell at all. Especially given that he was leaning a little heavily against her.

But even the alcohol didn't seem to matter. Like he'd said earlier, Jane almost never drank, so it wasn't really an issue.

She'd missed him.

He was a little drunk, yes, which was basically why he was holding her. And why she was allowing it. The fact that she found it easier to open up to Jane when _he_ was drunk was almost funny.

And, _oh god,_ had Jane just threaded his fingers through the ends of her hair? She was pretty sure he had. Patrick Jane was playing with her hair! _What the hell was she doing?_

This was not good.

It was late. She'd brought him home because he was just shy of dangerously drunk. He could have all the best mental control in the world; he'd still ingested a whack of whiskey. And it didn't matter that he'd been the one to instigate the physical contact, she'd still... he was...

She was supposed to be taking _care_ of him. Not... something else. _Goddamn it._

Lisbon started to slowly move away from her consultant, gently removing her hands from around his waist. She felt him reciprocate a few seconds after. As she pulled her head up from his shoulder, she felt his nose brush through her hair near her temple.

She forced her hands into fists to keep her fingers occupied.

Jane pulled back and leaned against the couch behind him, smiling. Hugging Lisbon had been much more pleasant than hugging the random woman at the AA meeting. He hadn't been expecting _that_ hug, didn't really like when strangers touched him. But Lisbon was different.

He liked touching her, when she let him.

She'd let him today.

Holding Lisbon was one of the few times you got a sense of how genuinely petite she was. She was always such an odd mixture of vulnerability and strength. Plus her hair was so soft. Oh, and it smelled good. He hadn't really wanted to let her go, but when she pulled away, he'd known he basically had to.

She'd looked sad.

She didn't look so sad anymore though. She looked... unsure. Probably wondering why he'd hugged her.

Well, he wasn't going to tell her. So there.

Lisbon was unsettled. She caught his eye, trying to figure out what he was thinking.

Her mind was still whirling through a series of images, and their (mostly) unwanted implications.

Patrick Jane, in her apartment, alone, judgement clouded, defences lowered, tactile, affectionate, and smiling right at her.

This was not good. Not good at all.

Why did she have scruples again? _Jane_ didn't.

Oh right, because she was the responsible one, the sensible one, the one who hadn't drunk half a bottle of whiskey in one sitting.

(But why did she always have to be the responsible one? A small, hidden part of her brain asked.)

"I'm sorry," Jane said after a moment, sensing that she was still a bit uncomfortable.

She shrugged. "S'okay. It could have been worse."

"That's not much of a recommendation," he said, trying not to feel hurt by the rejection. Then he realized she wasn't talking about the hug, she was talking about her childhood Christmases.

"No, it is what it is," Lisbon said with a shrug.

He brushed his fingers across her wrist, "Keep looking for magic, Teresa."

"_Jane..._" She didn't even know what she was warning him of anymore. Maybe it was just a general warning, stay back, keep out, no trespassing

And Jane got it; he knew when he wasn't wanted; he'd stop pushing. He was too tired anyway. "If you're going to scold me Teresa, do you mind if I sit down?"

Lisbon immediately felt guilty, "Oh, sorry. Of course."

He waved a hand at her. "You sure you don't want to talk about it?" he asked. "After all, I may not even remember this conversation in the morning."

"Nah," she told him. Oddly enough, the fact that he was drunk made confiding in Jane less appealing. If she ever did decide to talk to Jane about her family again, she'd want him to remember. It was just... telling him now would be no better than telling a random stranger on the street. And her family was too important for that. "You're off the hook," she said after a moment. "I'm fine. And you should have been asleep before now."

"I'm fine," he assured her. He'd sit up with her a bit if she wanted.

"Jane, you just asked if you could sit down," she reminded him.

"Okay, yes, the world is spinning a bit again," he admitted. "But mentally I'm fine."

Lisbon stared at him.

"I'm at about 70%," he corrected. "Okay, maybe closer to 58%, but that's an absolute minimum, Lisbon."

"You just make these numbers up out of thin air don't you?" she asked with a laugh.

"Sometimes," he admitted. "But..."

"I'm fine," she said again.

"I wish there was something I could do," he whispered. He did. He wanted to make it better. He couldn't, but he _wanted to. _

She was looking for magic, and after she'd been disappointed so many times. Her father, Bosco, her team from time to time, him, even Minelli, though she didn't know the worst of that (and if Jane's not-so-subtle set-up worked out, maybe she never would).

He admired her for that, for her resilience. Some might call her coping mechanisms avoidance, but he knew better.

Like their victim, Lisbon was a survivor. She moved forward.

Although, she also didn't like _help._

Accepting help made her uncomfortable. Which made his secret plan more difficult than it needed to be.

Lisbon shuffled slightly, "It's fine Jane," she assured him again. "I'm a big girl."

"Of course," he agreed with an awkward smile.

"Well!" she said suddenly. "I should get you a blanket. And your pillow."

"There's a blanket on the couch already," Jane reminded her gently. "And I know where my pillow is."

Lisbon glanced at the afghan folded over the back of her couch. "That's hardly a blanket," she said sceptically. "You'll be cold. I've got more…"

"It's fine, Lisbon," Jane assured her. "Stop fussing. I've slept on worse." He'd laid awake on worse too. Besides, the way his head was spinning he doubted it'd matter whether he had one blanket or twenty, he'd be out the second he could lie down.

"You sure?"

"Yeah," he told her. "But thank you."

"Of course," she said as she dropped his pillow on the couch.

He shook his head.

"What?" she asked with a laugh.

"Not _of course_," Jane corrected. "You didn't have to let me stay. Especially since you have a doctor's assurance that I'll be perfectly fine."

He was right of course; she didn't have to let him stay. But the idea of sending him home alone, half out of his head didn't seem right. She was aware that this was different, that she'd invited him into her home, specifically so he could spend the night; he wasn't just staying because he'd dropped by late at night and they'd gotten distracted. But it had really seemed the only option at the time; Lisbon admitted that she hadn't even considered another course of action. Which was maybe the most startling thing of all. However, all she said was, "You stay here some nights when you're not drunk. And anyway, I still think you should be watched."

"Distrustful of doctors are we Teresa?" he asked her.

"No."

"I'll remember that the next time you're ordering me to listen to one of them, for some reason or other," Jane added, dropping slowly onto her couch.

"You _need_ to listen to the doctors, Jane!" Lisbon scolded. "They're trying to take care of you."

"Well, you obviously don't trust them," Jane observed. "Why should I?"

"I just think it's better to be safe than sorry," Lisbon said in frustration.

"Mmhm."

"Whatever Jane."

"Well argued."

She sighed. "You sure you don't need anything?" she asked, lingering near the foot of her stairs.

"Just sleep," he murmured half into the pillow.

She smiled, "Okay. Night."

"Night Teresa," he said softly.

Lisbon took one last look at him as she got to the top of the stairs, shaking her head when she realized that the afghan was still folded on the back of the couch. Idiot would catch his death of cold.

Still, better that he was downstairs, near enough that she could make sure wasn't going to get alcohol poisoning or something. She knew it was unlikely, but _still._ It made her feel better, that he wasn't all alone, in case something bad happened. Besides, everyone needed someone to look out for them from time to time.

Even Jane.

She started changing for bed. It was nice, knowing he was close.

She glanced around her bedroom almost regretfully. Not _too_ close though.

xxxxx

Jane was already half asleep.

He could hear Lisbon puttering around upstairs, no doubt going through her nightly routine. The muffled sounds was soothing, a nice change from the silence of either his attic or his apartment, or even his couch in the bullpen when he slept there at night at least.

Besides, it was nicer to be in her apartment. It was homier than his, even with all her boxes.

Maybe he should offer to help her unpack those.

He snuggled deeper into his pillow, pleased when he realized it smelled like her laundry detergent.

It was far nicer to focus on the smell of spring freshness then on the swirling in his head. He could understand the compulsion to get good and drunk from time to time. He'd done it himself, to forget. But he wouldn't want to do it all the time. It dulled the senses, and he was nothing without all of his senses.

Maybe that was what poor, heartbroken May had meant, when she'd said that anything that prevented you from experiencing life was bad. Maybe he agreed with her there after all. Anything that made him _less_ perceptive was bad.

But then, his addictions didn't make him less perceptive. At least not in his opinion. They just… _focussed_ his powers of perception.

Although, Jane thought (somewhat regret fully), as he listened to the woman on the floor above him shuffling around, that it was possible his addictions prevented him from truly living his life.

xxxxx

Lisbon wandered back into her bedroom from her bathroom, trying to turn off her brain, trying to let their latest case go. She ordered herself to go to bed, and just stop thinking about it (and by extension the complication currently lying on her living room couch).

She wasn't having much luck with that though.

For one, LaRoche was a worry.

He'd already honed in on Jane. That always made her nervous.

And okay, _yes_, Jane _was _capable of murder. She'd meant that when she'd admitted as much to LaRoche. Jane had the potential to become a killer, no question.

But he hadn't killed Todd Johnson.

And what she'd told Jane was true too. That when the time came, she hoped she'd be in enough control of the situation to stop him.

She needed to stop him.

For justice, for legality. She was an officer of the law; there was a principal here.

So she needed to…

He was her friend. Her…

She…

She could lose him _so_ easily.

But she wouldn't let him go without a fight.

She would protect him, from LaRoche, from Red John, from himself. Well, she'd try anyway.

Oh Lord. It was no use. She'd never get any sleep this way.

Lisbon tiptoed down the stairs extra-cautiously. But her attempts to make as little noise as possible were unnecessary; for once Jane was actually sleeping soundly (thanks mostly to the alcohol she guessed).

Lisbon tucked the extra quilt around him gently, brushing a hand against his forehead to make sure he wasn't running a fever or anything.

If he'd been awake he'd have laughed at her, told her she didn't need to worry so much, to watch over him, to take care.

But she did.

She cared too much not to.

_Now_ she'd be able to get to sleep.

xxxxx

The end

P.S. For those who have forgotten, Lisbon bought Jane a special pillow sometime before the 3.02 post-ep for when he ended up sleeping on her couch.

Oh, and P.P.S. This is the first of the post-eps that will have what I've decided to call a Tag. Basically I feel like, narratively, there's something that needs to happen between this post-ep and the next post-ep. So I am writing the missing scene, so to speak. Just so you all know.


	11. TAG: Tidings of Comfort and Joy

Okay, so here's the first of the tags, which were supposed to be SHORT. Why is this one about 3000 words then, you might ask? I DON'T KNOW. It just _is_.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, because this scene needed to get written (it DID). And it didn't belong as part of the 3.10 post-ep. Hence the tag.

To **yaba**, because I have an odd feeling she'll like this one. Just a guess though. Hee.

xxxxx

3.10 TAG: Tidings of Comfort and Joy

xxxxx

Jane knocked on her front door, which was a bad idea.

He knew it was a bad idea.

Okay, no it wasn't. Not really. It wasn't a bad idea. It was just a _different_ idea. That was all. And one he didn't know how she would react to.

The only reason his mind had actually decided it _might_ be a bad idea certainly wasn't because he was nervous. That was a ridiculous notion.

Really, she might not even be home. She had things to do with her time after all. She _was_ flying east the next morning.

Then he heard the door start to open.

Because of course she was home (as he'd known she would be).

"Hey Jane," Lisbon said with a small smile. "What're you doing here?"

He smiled back and held out a package in his right hand. "You did tell me once that you'd never turn cookies away."

Lisbon bit her lip in pleasure and stepped aside so he could come inside. After all, cookies weren't the only thing she was unlikely to ever turn away when they showed up on her doorstep.

"I'll put the kettle on for tea," was all she said.

Jane nodded and followed her in, trying not to fidget with the two boxes he was holding.

Helpfully, he was distracted by her apartment.

After filling her kettle, Lisbon turned to find her consultant beaming at her. "What?" she asked smirking back at him.

Jane gestured towards the corner of her living room. "I see you have a new addition."

Lisbon instinctively looked in the direction he was indicating. Her eyes widened, ""Yeah, well, last time you were here you wouldn't stop complaining about the lack of decorations," she muttered a little defensively.

Jane grinned as he examined the little two-foot tree standing in the corner. She'd even dug a string of lights and some mismatched bulbs out of somewhere (the decorations certainly weren't new). "It suits the place, Lisbon," he told her. "Glad to see you followed my advice and found yourself a little tree in need of a good home. How do you like it?"

"It drops needles all over my floor," she retorted. "You didn't mention _that_ when you were discussing my dire need of decorations."

In other words she loved it, Jane thought with a nod. He'd figured as much. In fact, he'd bet that Lisbon was probably already wondering how long she could keep her little tree up after the holidays were over. "It matches the garlands you draped over the unpacked boxes," he said cheerfully. "Very festive." And oddly appropriate too, he thought to himself.

"I _told_ you I usually put up decorations," Lisbon reminded him testily.

"Yes, you did," Jane agreed. "But you haven't put up much, if anything, recently. Last year you didn't have anything up at all, and this year I wouldn't be surprised if you were thinking of doing the same before I brought it up."

"Oh, shut up and give me my cookies," Lisbon grumbled.

Jane grinned and handed her the first of his two boxes.

Lisbon took it. "Shortbread again," she said with a smirk as she removed the seasonal packaging.

"They're festive," he said, defending his choice.

"Yeah," she agreed with a more genuine smile. Then her expression turned confused. "What's that?" she asked, pointing to the box he was still holding.

Jane looked down at the box wrapped in shiny red paper. Oh yeah. He'd almost forgotten about _that_. Suddenly he felt the instinct to fidget again. Instead, he shrugged with exaggerated nonchalance, "Oh this?"

"Yes Jane, _that_" Lisbon replied dryly with an odd look in her eye.

He shrugged again. "It's nothing," he assured her quickly. "Just something I saw the other day that I thought… Well, here," he finished awkwardly as he handed her the box. All of which was a lie of course. He'd spent an embarrassing amount of time deciding what to buy her, since renting another pony (or anything like it) wasn't what he'd been looking for (even though over-the-top was really the only type of gift he was good at picking out). And _then_, he'd spent even longer deciding when to give it to her, a decision made all the more difficult by the fact that Lisbon would be out of town on Christmas day itself.

Lisbon took the box from him with an expression that was simultaneously pleased and doubtful. Jane knew she didn't believe his story about the gift being a spur of the moment thing. He'd known she wouldn't believe that when he'd bought it. After all, they'd never exchanged Christmas gifts before now. Add that to the fact that his present coincided with the fact that they'd been getting closer over the past six months….

He'd… well… He'd just _wanted_ to buy her something.

And he wasn't quite sure how she'd react to that.

Oh, he was sure Lisbon wouldn't toss the box back at his head, or out the window, or anything like that, and she'd almost certainly tell him a gift wasn't necessary, but he was surprised by how much he wanted her to like his foolish little gift. He'd been _this_close to simply leaving it on her desk for her to find, but something had stopped him.

Jane could see he'd surprised her, but she didn't look unhappy. He watched her push a stray piece of hair behind her ear. Was she nervous? Why?

"You didn't have to do this, Jane," she said softly as she started picking at the corners of the paper.

He smiled affectionately at her predictability. For some reason gifts and compliments were always unexpected to his Lisbon. "I know I didn't _have to_, Lisbon," he told her as she slowly unwrapped the gift. "It's not a big deal, just a little thing I happened to see."

She gasped softly as she pulled his gift out of its box. "Oh, it's beautiful," she murmured.

He smiled as he watched her face intently. She _did_ like it. She really liked it. Well… good. That was good. That was what he'd wanted.

Lisbon was still sitting on her couch, turning the snow globe over in her hands. She grinned as she watched the sparkling snow swirl around the Christmas tree inside of it. "Why?" she asked, looking up at him with shining eyes.

Jane felt his smile widen. "You didn't have any decorations; I wanted to help," he told her. "And I bought it before I knew about your little needle-dropping friend over there."

"Right," she agreed, turning her attention back to the snow-globe and the remarkably detailed scene therein. "There's even a little horse-drawn sleigh in here," she said delightedly as she shook the ball again to set the snowflakes flying.

"Do you miss it?" Jane asked her, still watching her face.

"Miss what?" Lisbon wondered, turning her attention back to him.

"The snow," he clarified.

She shrugged. "Sometimes," she admitted.

He raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah," she admitted. "I mean, not the traffic problems, or the shoveling, but… It's pretty you know?"

He nodded. He'd thought as much. Because much as she tried to hide it, Teresa Lisbon still searched for magic. There were very few things more magical than snow on Christmas morning.

And the expression on her face at that moment was reminding him why he'd absolutely refused to get her anything that was even remotely practical, like that new datebook she probably needed. While she'd have no doubt appreciated it, it wouldn't have been what she _wanted._ Not really.

"Jane, thank you," she said, looking back at him.

He smiled, "Of course. I mean, it's not a big deal," he babbled. "Like I said, I just saw it and I thought you'd like it..."

Lisbon stood up after gently setting the snow globe down on her coffee table. Then, after placing a hand briefly on his arm and sending him another self-conscious smile, she walked over to her little tree, fished a present out of the back corner and awkwardly held it out to him.

"I was going to wait until I got back to give this to you," she said, biting her lip.

Jane's smile turned boyish. "Teresa, you didn't have to," he assured her. He certainly hadn't expected her to get him anything in return. That wasn't why he'd bought her a present. Not that he was upset that she'd apparently felt the urge to reciprocate.

"Just like you didn't have to," Lisbon reminded him playfully.

He grinned at her, before ripping into his gift. He let out a huff of amusement. "A bottle of whiskey? Really Teresa?" he asked.

She smirked. "You _did_ say that you enjoyed the experience of being drunk," she reminded him.

He couldn't deny that; he had. His mind flashed back to the last evening he'd spent in her apartment, completely drunk out of his mind. While she'd taken care of him, with far more care than anyone else ever would have. "Does that mean that if I decide to make a dent in this then I can sleep on your couch again?" he joked.

Her eyes sparkled at him; after all, a drunk Jane had a certain appeal. He was less guarded, more tactile, and a part of her liked that. "Sure," she said dryly. "But maybe try not to drink half the bottle this time."

"Oh, pretty sure it was over half last time," Jane replied cheerfully. "But I promise to drink responsibly, Teresa," he assured her.

"Thank you," she whispered, knowing why he'd said it. Then she shook herself slightly, "I know it's not a very exciting gift…" She said, glancing reflexively at her snow globe.

Jane frowned. No. She didn't get to do that. She wasn't allowed to compare their gifts, especially if she was going to think that his was somehow better than hers. He hadn't been expecting her to get him anything. The fact that she _had_ was enough for him.

He took a step towards her, set the whiskey on the table and took her hand. "It's the thought that counts," he assured her gently. "And it's been a while since I've gotten a non-Secret-Santa-related gift."

She turned back towards him, trying to ignore the fact that he was drawing patterns against her wrist with his thumb, not to mention the fact that he had _yet again_ invaded her personal space (this time while they were both sober. "Patrick…" she whispered.

"Yes?" he asked, wondering what exactly he thought he was doing, really what either of them were doing.

But he never got to hear what she was going to say thanks to a whistling kettle.

"I should go make the tea," Lisbon said walking quickly towards the kitchen.

"Need help?" he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets, trying to convince himself he was pleased by the interruption (since half the reason he'd dropped by in the first place was to have tea and cookies).

"I've got it," Lisbon assured him firmly in a tone that told him she wouldn't appreciate company in her kitchen at the moment. "Make yourself comfortable," she all but ordered.

Jane dropped into one her couch and decided to busy himself with opening the shortbread.

A half a minute later Lisbon returned with two mugs. She handed him one with a smile, though she didn't quite meet his eyes.

Jane sighed internally. Great. Now he'd made her uncomfortable. He knew he should've just left the present on her desk. He scowled at the mug in his hands, suddenly irritated at the world.

The _brand new_ mug in his hands. Jane's eyes narrowed. The last time he'd made tea in her apartment he hadn't noticed a teal mug in Lisbon's cupboard. He turned the mug around in his hands slowly, noticing the writing on the far side for the first time.

'Irritating Consultant.'

Jane turned towards the other end of the couch, where Lisbon blowing on her tea and staring determinedly at her little Christmas tree.

He stared at her just as determinedly (if more affectionately).

"I didn't get a chance to wrap it," she said suddenly.

"Ah."

"And I figured," she added self-consciously, "Since you seem to have a favourite mug at the CBI, and you seem to show up at my door every couple of weeks or so…" She let her explanation trail off.

Jane set his tea down on the coffee table, leaned over and brushed his lips against her temple. He heard (and ignored) her quick little gasp. "Thank you Teresa," he said tenderly as he moved back to his end up the couch, and retrieved his cup, his_ special_ cup. The one _she'd_ bought him.

"You're welcome," she replied hoarsely.

"Have some shortbread," he added in more normal tone of voice, offering her the box.

Her lips quirked up, as she turned and took a cookie, "Thanks."

"So," Jane asked neutrally. "You packed yet?"

"Pretty much," Lisbon agreed. "I still have to put some of the gifts in my suitcase, but I wanted to leave them under the tree a little while longer."

Jane nodded. "You excited to see your brothers?" he asked.

She grinned. "Yeah, I am. I haven't seen my nieces and nephews in over a year now. It should be nice, even if I'm not seeing all of my brothers all at once," she added a little sadly.

"Still, at least you'll get to see them all," Jane reminded her, finding himself surprisingly irritated by the touch of unhappiness marring her Christmas plans. "And I bet they're excited to see their big sister and their aunt."

"Yeah," she agreed. "They already have snow up there too."

"I'm glad." He was. She seriously deserved a vacation.

Lisbon smiled at him. "What about you?" she asked hopefully. "Any Christmas plans?"

Jane smiled softly. "Not really," he admitted, knowing she'd be worrying wishing there was something he could say to put her mind at ease, but who would he spend the holidays with? The only person he'd even consider being festive with was flying halfway across the country the next morning. "Nothing too exciting going on, pretty much a typical day for me."

"Jane…" she said sadly.

"Don't worry about me, Teresa," he told her cheerfully in an attempt to reassure her. He knew she was feeling guilty about leaving him all alone. While part of him liked that she worried, he really didn't want her to feel badly; she _should_ go see her family. They must be missing her. How could they not? "I'm sure I'll figure out something to do. Maybe I'll follow your usual example and spend the day watching the Christmas specials on TV."

"Some of them are pretty great," Lisbon admitted.

"They are," he agreed. "So you're not allowed to worry about me during your holidays. I was all but ordered to take the time off almost as soon as you put in your request for a vacation, so you don't need to be concerned about me wreaking havoc at work while you're gone. I'm sure I'll spend Christmas day being as lazy and self-indulgent as possible." He was almost certain he'd find some silly thing or other to entertain himself, distract himself from the fact that he would be alone, as usual. He was definitely easily distracted when he wanted to be.

"Okay," she agreed slowly.

"Seriously Teresa," he assured her. "I promise to relax," which was really just code for he promised not to go hole himself up in the attic and obsess over a serial killer. If she ever got wind of it (and she probably would, somehow; personally Jane suspected that one of the security guards had a little bit of a crush on her), she'd spend the next week staring at him in a disappointed sort of concern, which would be tiresome. Besides, he was still no further on the Red John case, in spite of Minelli's secretly acquired suspect list, which he could comfortably brood over in his own apartment if he wanted to.

"You're sure you'll be okay?" Lisbon asked dubiously.

Jane chuckled. Teresa Lisbon, a woman who thought the world would fall apart if she went on vacation for five days (though, had he not been taking time off as well she might have been right; there was definitely a reason Madeleine had _encouraged_ him to go on vacation at the same time she had). "I'm sure," he assured her. "I am capable of keeping myself out of trouble without you."

She scoffed.

"And you deserve a break," he repeated. "Do try and relax would you, dear?"

Lisbon's amused irritation turned into a more genuine scowl.

Jane smirked. "Don't pout; we both know you basically need to be ordered to take a vacation. Here, have some more shortbread."

She sighed, but she took another cookie.

"I will miss you though," he admitted softly.

She smiled, glancing at her snow globe. "Yeah."

"Merry Christmas Teresa."

"Merry Christmas Patrick."

After that, they lapsed into a comfortable silence. Jane let himself relax into her couch and drink his tea in his friend's festively decorated apartment.

Two days later, on Christmas day, Jane was puttering around his apartment half-listening to the Christmas special playing in the background and trying very hard not to be disappointed by the fact that the teacup he was currently using was exactly the same as all the others in the set.

Then, when she called him that evening, just after they'd finished dinner at her brother's house, Jane tried to pretend that it wasn't the best part of his day.

And, as he listened to her tell him all about her Christmas and he heard the sounds of her family behind her (including a nearly-not-child-censored-order to "_Shut… Be quiet James!"_ from the woman on the other end of the phone), he tried to pretend that he didn't desperately wish he was there with her.

xxxxx

The end

See? Tag was necessary. They needed to exchange Christmas gifts in this series. Obviously.


	12. Post 311: Undisclosed Romantics

A/N: Okay, so I'd like to thank all my reviewers. I really appreciate it when people take the time to review. I thank all the people who sign in individually, but thanks to my non-signed in reviewers. I'm not sure if there's been a little bit of confusion, I could be misunderstanding my reviews, and if that's the case, then sorry, the upcoming explanation is going to be redundant. All of my AU stories (including all the S2 oneshots listed in the A/N in the first chapter of this fic) are part of the same series. This fic is a continuation of them. I would consider this fic an AU, even if it is not a major one, in that Jane and Lisbon were sleeping together for well, really most of S2, even if they weren't in an actual romantic relationship and everything was all kinds of messed up. And then that arrangement dissolved after the S2 finale. Just wanted to reiterate that to make sure we're all on the same page. Alrighty then.

On to the fic! Hope you enjoy! I claim no responsibility for some of the middle section. No idea where that came from. It just happened, I swear. And please keep up the lovely, lovely reviews; they honestly make my day.

xxxxx

Post 3.11: Undisclosed Romantics

xxxxx

"_Meh, he lost a life of getting hit in the head but he got his marriage back. Seems like a fair trade to me."_

"_Aren't you the romantic?"_

"_Makes the world go round."_

xxxxx

Teresa Lisbon shook her head as she walked back into her office with yet another cup of coffee. She didn't even want to think about how many she consumed in a day.

Jane could probably tell her.

That man noticed more things than he admitted to, more things than she wanted to know about Lisbon was sure.

And he had an uncanny ability to know when she needed a re-fill. They crossed paths in the break room too many times for it to be random. She wasn't intentionally seeking _him_ out (most of the time), so that only left Jane looking for _her_…

Not that she minded if that was the case.

Sometimes Jane was the little bright spot in her day.

Okay, most of the time he was nothing but trouble, and extra work, not to mention a never-ending source of worry and confusion.

(Lisbon didn't like being confused.)

But when he wasn't being all that, Jane was also the man (her colleague) who made her smile. The one who came up with the insane schemes to help her solve her cases. The one who distracted her from her often-otherwise crappy day.

(Patrick Jane had always been good at distraction where she was concerned. But she didn't think about _that_ anymore.)

Now he knew just when to pop up, stirring a cup of tea, and making her laugh.

Their case even had a happy ending, of sorts, this time. Well, not for the victim's father, but the killer'd been caught, and, according to Jane at least, they'd saved a marriage.

Apparently, and by his own admission, Patrick Jane was a romantic.

Something that didn't surprise Teresa Lisbon in the least.

She'd actually known that. Quite well. Had a little bit of first -hand experience with romance and Patrick Jane. Which, speaking of distracting…

Not that they'd been really _romantic._ They'd both known it. She always reminded herself of that.

But sometimes, when a handsome man was smiling at you like you were the only person in the room you _forgot._

(Especially if he was telling you that romance made the world go round.)

She half-wondered how romantic he could be. Except that she didn't.

(She _couldn't_.)

Because she was sensible. Always sensible.

(Never that reckless. Not even with herself.)

She did her paperwork and made sure that her unit wasn't about to collapse about her.

She dotted the i's and crossed the t's.

Nodding to herself, Lisbon took a sip of her coffee, and opened her file, thankful that the case hadn't ended in disaster.

Then she frowned.

Because while it may not have _ended_ that way…

xxxxxx

Jane was lying on his couch in the attic when his phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket with a smile, knowing who was calling without even having to check the display.

"Wouldn't be the end of a case without a phone call from the boss," he said airily. "Always takes you a few hours to remember there was something you wanted to scold me about earlier, but were too distracted to remember at the time."

Lisbon smirked. "Trying causing fewer problems and maybe we'd be able to get through a case without one of these conversations."

Jane smiled affectionately, "Now why would I want to do that?"

He heard her sigh.

Jane decided to take pity on her, "What can I help you with today, Teresa?"

Lisbon allowed herself to spin slightly in her chair, "Can we have a conversation about you starting a riot in the middle of a hallway in the CBI?"

"I don't know, can we?" Jane asked, deciding he was in too good a mood not to tease her at least a little.

Lisbon's irritation rose to the bait, as it almost always did. "Seriously? You're going with that?"

"Maybe," he replied with a shrug.

"Fine," she snapped, not in the mood for his childishness (wishing that just once they could have an actual conversation). "Call me back when you've decided to act at least half your age."

She hung up with a click.

Jane stared at his phone in surprise. He hadn't been expecting that reaction.

All told he lasted nearly three minutes before calling her back.

"Lisbon?" he heard her answer on the other end, as if she didn't know who was calling.

"You wanted to speak to me?" Jane asked in his politest (and he hoped, least confrontational) tone of voice.

"Only if you're going to be the smallest bit sensible," Lisbon grumbled, feeling a little bit silly for her earlier burst of temper.

"Sensible's no fun," Jane replied, his tone almost whimsical.

"No, in your world, fun is starting a potentially dangerous riot in the middle of my hallway," Lisbon said dryly, attempting to let go of her frustrations where her consultant was concerned.

"_Your_ hallway?" Jane asked, raising his eyebrows.

"My office is on that hallway," Lisbon justified. "So is the bullpen my team sits in."

"So are about a dozen other things," Jane reminded her. "Including the interrogation rooms. Does that make it the suspects' hallway too?"

"Shut up. Stop trying to change the subject. Why?" she asked again.

"I can't just start a little riot for fun?" Jane asked innocently.

Lisbon nearly choked on her coffee, whether in laughter or in irritation she wasn't quite sure. Conversations with Jane tended to flip from one to the other with surprising speed. "Oh, and what's on your schedule for next week then? A little bit of jokey bribery? Maybe grand theft auto for a laugh?" she asked scathingly.

"It _was_ a bit funny," Jane defended with a grin. She couldn't see him, so she couldn't punch him for it.

"What if people had gotten hurt?" Lisbon asked, with as much authority as she could muster (quite a bit really, when dealing with anyone _but_ Jane).

"Meh."

"_Jane._"

"Don't scold, Teresa," the consultant all but ordered her. After all, she didn't know the whole story. "That guy, one of the fighters, Merriman? He deserved it."

"Oh did he?" Lisbon asked, leaning back in her chair figuring this should be good.

"Yes."

"Jane, just because you don't like someone…" Lisbon started to explain what should have been a simple concept.

"You don't like him either," Jane interjected.

She paused. "I don't know him," she said finally.

"You don't like him," Jane repeated. "_And_ he disrespected the victim."

"What?" Lisbon asked, surprised by the apparent non sequitur.

"Idiot me if Charlotte Mitchell was raped when I first interviewed him, seeing as she was attractive, though attractive wasn't the word he used," Jane explained, his tone deceptively light.

Lisbon let her chin fall against her chest. She should have known. She should have known that even _Jane _wouldn't start a riot in a hallway for no reason. Not that having a reason made it _okay_ but… Of course this was what it was. Patrick Jane, the man who couldn't follow any rules, but also couldn't let a wrong go unanswered. "Jane…"

"So no Lisbon, I didn't like him," Jane continued, cutting her off in that same false voice.

Lisbon shut her eyes for a half a second.

"No one should treat women that way," Jane added. "Charlotte Mitchell didn't deserve that."

"You'll excuse me for saying it, but you're a bit of an unexpected avenger," Lisbon said with a gentleness that surprised both of them. Though she knew her statement wasn't exactly true. Rigsby may have been the team's most obvious defender of women under threat, but then, for obvious reasons, sometimes that was also one of Jane's particular buttons. His _methods_, however, couldn't have been more different than Rigsby's (no six-foot-plus frame and gun to intimidate the jerks with in Jane's case).

"Plus Merriman's such a cliché, the fighter who's little more than a caveman, and it's so much fun to watch the wheels in his head try to turn," Jane added, sounding more like himself.

"Well," Lisbon said, trying to bring the conversation back on track. "In future, if you want to 'teach someone a lesson', I'd appreciate it if you didn't involve half the people on the floor in a brawl with people trained in any number of martial arts."

"Feeling a little threatened, Teresa?" he teased. "You shouldn't be. I was sure you'd be able to get things back under control."

"Yeah, luckily before someone ended up seriously hurt!" she snapped. "Seriously Jane? A brawl? Again? This is your second one in as many years! And if I recall _you_ weren't the one standing right in the middle of the two guys intent on ripping each other apart."

Jane felt a twinge of guilt at that. He had basically forced her to break up a fight between people at least twice her size. "I'll try to limit any physical altercations in the future. And like I said, I really didn't think that brawl at the high school reunion would happen. That one really was an accident Lisbon."

"Only you could accidentally start a _brawl_," she grumbled.

"Guess I'm just one of a kind," he replied easily, grinning when he heard her sigh.

"Merriman really asked if Charlotte had been raped?" Lisbon asked.

"As casually as if he'd been asking about the weather," Jane confirmed.

"Ass," was Lisbon's succinct response. "Between him and Manny's wife, who blamed her husband's infidelity on the women in his life…"

"Ultimate fighting does attract a certain clientele," Jane replied. "From what I hear, Rigsby got a taste of that firsthand from his date to the event."

Lisbon's ears pricked up. "_Really?"_

Jane chuckled. "Why Lisbon, indulging in a little gossip are you? _I'm shocked._"

"Shut up and tell me what you heard," she ordered.

Jane paused, "You know that _technically_…"

Lisbon made a sound of exasperation. "You really are twelve today aren't you?"

"According to you I'm twelve most days," Jane reminded her.

"Come on Jane," she all but pleaded.

He grinned. "I don't know, you've been a bit cranky with me this fine evening."

"And what better way to get back on my good side?" Lisbon asked.

"I wasn't aware I was _ever_ on your good side," he grinned.

"It's rare," she admitted dryly.

Jane smiled and settled further into his couch. "Well," he drawled. "From what I managed to glean, when I overheard Rigsby talking about it with Cho, his lady-friend would have been more than happy to see our friendly teammate punch someone. Repeatedly."

"Oh lord," Lisbon said with a laugh.

"Yes," Jane continued. "Rigsby gathered that if he knocked someone to the ground she might be even more… enthusiastic where he was concerned."

"Poor Rigsby," Lisbon said, though her tone wasn't exactly sympathetic.

"Heaven only knows what she'd have done if he got his gun involved," Jane added.

Lisbon let out an undignified snort, before collapsing into muffled giggles.

"I gather he was far too afraid to ask her if she wanted to see his handcuffs though," her consultant continued. "Shame. Could have been a missed opportunity, that."

"Maybe you should suggest it to him," Lisbon smirked.

"I don't think he plans on seeing her again," Jane replied. "Sounded a bit scared, really."

"Oh, Rigsby…" Lisbon murmured. "Though that could _hardly_ have been the first time Wayne's gone out with a woman attracted to the whole big bad cop image."

"What?" Jane asked, confused.

"We've all had it happen," Lisbon explained. "Not realized that the person we're out to dinner with has a bit of a thing for authority until it's far, far too late."

Jane sat up abruptly. "What?" he repeated, a touch of excitement seeping into his voice at that idea.

Lisbon felt her grin turn mischievous. "Yeah, part of the price of being a cop," she explained. "Personally, whenever it happens I've found the best thing is to politely refuse to handcuff the guy to his headboard and cut the evening short. Unless he's really hot of course."

"Of course," Jane repeated, discombobulated and distracted (_really _distracted).

"Course, the kind who are all excited to be handcuffed usually aren't the ones who _are_ really hot," Lisbon added as mournfully as she could manage.

"Right," Jane coughed, still sounding a bit lost.

"Still," Lisbon continued suddenly cheerful. "It's too bad that Rigsby's date didn't work out. Might help him get his mind off of Van Pelt."

"I think it'll take more than an overly enthusiastic woman with a fetish for physical violence to do that," Jane observed.

"Sounds like it," Lisbon replied.

"But the course of true love never did run smooth," Jane observed. "Guess he just needs to meet the right girl."

"Alright, what's gotten into you lately?" Lisbon asked. "All this sudden support of romance."

"When have I not supported romance?" Jane asked curiously.

Lisbon paused. She supposed he had a point; maybe I wasn't so much that Jane didn't support romance as that he didn't mention it. When it did come up, Jane did tend to be on the side of love and its trappings (except perhaps when I came to himself). And her consultant did love a good story, a happy ending. He was never shy about stating when a relationship was doomed, but then a bad relationship wasn't exactly romantic.

The ideal, he fun, the joy, the magic of romance, she supposed that sort of thing would be right up Jane's alley.

"Lisbon?" Jane asked softly.

She shook herself out of her reverie. "Maybe It just feels like it's just been coming up more often than usual lately," she admitted.

He paused. "Has it?"

"M-hm," she said slowly. "Though I suppose you've always been giving Rigsby romantic advice. But I don' know, between him and our married couple earlier today, who I wouldn't have thought stood much of a chance by the way, I guess it's seemed like a lot."

Jane wondered briefly if she could be right. Especially as she didn't even know about his attempts to set up her former boss with a woman who might be able to help him through a tough time. "Is that a problem?" the consultant asked curiously.

"No," Lisbon admitted. "Just… unexpected maybe. Or not unexpected but, well, I don't know actually. Maybe just different somehow."

"There are worse things than romance," Jane said lightly. "I could be channeling my considerable abilities into something else entirely."

"Like starting fights in the CBI building?" Lisbon asked.

"Hush."

"I definitely prefer matchmaking to that," Lisbon admitted. "As long as you don't make _me_ your target."

He felt his heart skitter ever so slightly. Did that mean Lisbon wasn't looking for love? Because that was very sad, but he couldn't say he was all that eager to help her find a nice guy and settle into a stable relationship. Or did Lisbon mean that she_ was_ looking for love, but she simply didn't want him interfering? He really wasn't all that fond of that option either.

Or was he over-thinking this, and this was just another attempt by his friend to keep him at a distance?

"Where's your sense of romance, Lisbon?" he asked, trying to keep the conversation light.

"Buried in paperwork," she replied quickly.

"Come on."

She paused. "Jane, I've seen a lot. With this job, and well…" she trailed off.

"Teresa," he whispered suddenly sad for her.

She pasted on a smile and a cheerful tone of voice, "Anyway, I'm too much of a workaholic for romance."

"But that's one of the most romantic stories of all," Jane reminded her. "A person who's all but given up on finding love discovering it in the most unexpected of places."

"Been reading a lot of Nora Roberts recently, have you?" Lisbon asked, deflecting with a joke.

"Nothing wrong with Nora Roberts," Jane replied gently.

"I didn't say there was," she replied.

"You should know," Jane said, pleased by a sudden memory. "I've seen those novels hidden in the corner of your bookshelf."

"I would expect nothing less given your tendency to snoop," she shot back, well aware that she was blushing, and pleased he was currently in another part of the building.

"A little more romantic than you like people to think, Teresa?" he asked playfully. Of course she was. How could he have forgotten? He'd seen her smile when she'd accused him of being romantic earlier. _Of course_ Teresa Lisbon was a closet romantic. The woman dedicated herself to making things turn out the way they should, to solving the tragedies of life. She lived in a world of faith and idealism; it was directed towards the legal system, but still, what could be more romantic than that?

"Maybe I let myself believe sometimes," she replied curtly without thinking.

Jane paused, feeling his heart go out to her, she whom life had not certainly _not_ treated fairly. And he wished that they weren't having this conversation on the phone. So that he could at least… take her arm maybe. He wasn't quite sure. "Don't give up so easily Teresa," he said gently. "If a serial philanderer can get a happy ending, things can't be as terrible as you think. Besides, romance is a good look on you."

"Is it?" she asked, bemused.

"Sure," he admitted.

"So I should take a page out of your book?" she asked. "Follow your example."

"Well, I was trying to be modest…" he said with a smirk.

She laughed. "Yeah, you're known for that."

"Hey!"

She laughed again. "Well, as fun as this has been, I should finish the rest of these reports."

"Now that you've administered my weekly scolding," Jane surmised.

"Weekly?" she asked.

"I was being generous," he explained.

"Ah. Anyway, I've got to work," she told him.

"Practicality always wins out again," Jane said philosophically.

"You be the romantic for the evening," Lisbon replied.

"Fine."

"Bye Jane," she said with a laugh.

She heard a soft "Goodbye Teresa," just before she hung up her phone.

Lisbon stared at her phone for a second, shaking her head slightly. It figured Jane was encouraging romance, even if it was… _odd._

On the other hand he was always trying to convince her to see things form his point of view. And he believed in romance.

"_Makes the world go round."_

Her hand shook suddenly as she reached for her file.

But how much did he believe in romance?

She'd thought he believed in it when it came to everyone but himself. But…

But he had asked Kristina Frye out to dinner.

And before that he'd sought out her own company (_not that they'd been romantic_; the phrase played in her brain like a broken record). That was done now, but…

But maybe Jane hadn't quite given up hope.

(Regardless of what he might think.)

She set her pen down on her desk gently and tried very hard to regulate her breathing.

It almost scared her how much she hoped that was true, how much she wanted it to be true.

She always told herself that Jane wasn't as far gone as he always claimed to be. That he had something to live for, that he wouldn't just throw everything away to get Red John.

She told herself that because she had to.

But confronting the idea that _Jane_ himself was romantic enough to think that, even without knowing it…

After all, maybe the right person simply hadn't come along yet, for him either.

For the second time obviously.

But there was no rule that everyone only got _one _person. Some people must get lucky, and Jane did seem to have an odd sort of luck sometimes.

And if Jane _did_ believe in romance…

She on the other hand, had never really had much hope of epic romance to begin with.

Sure, she'd had a couple of brief romances in her college years. Even had a steady boyfriend for year or so in San Francisco. And since she'd come to Sacramento she'd tried the dating thing sporadically, but none of it had ever stuck. She wasn't good at letting people in. Even if she had been, the hours she worked weren't exactly conducive to a long term relationship.

Lisbon had figured out a while ago that she was best at casual.

Not strangers. She'd never really been all that comfortable with going home with a complete stranger, but a relationship with someone she liked well enough to spend a couple of nights with, no commitments, that she could do. Like Mike Nicholls, formerly of the Fraud division before he'd transferred upstate, or Walter Mashburn, everyone's favourite fun-loving billionaire, or even Jane himself for a while.

She could deal with that sort of thing.

It worked for her, though even she realized it wasn't always ideal.

The most serious she'd gotten in a while had been with Jane, and look how that had ended.

Things were probably better between the two of them _now_ than they'd ever been when they were sleeping together. She was more comfortable in her consultant's company. She might even trust him some of the time, at least on the job. Or maybe she was just getting used to him. After all, she hadn't even batted an eye when Jane started going on about a message written in shorthand that she'd known herself hadn't existed hours earlier. But then, he was also including her a little more in his cons than he had been, so maybe that was it.

Or maybe she was just beginning to recognize the signs of a Jane-plan.

It was becoming old hat, just as running after an angry witness chasing after Jane was becoming the norm too.

They were becoming almost partners, or partner-adjacent, as Jane would say.

She kinda liked it.

Just as she was beginning to like the idea of spending time with him after-hours. Friendly time.

She'd known him for years after all.

They'd gotten close. It was normal.

Hell, Jane was the longest relationship she'd had in a long time.

She wasn't sure what their relationship was all the time, but it worked. Or rather it was a work in progress.

Today they were friends.

Tomorrow…

Well, tomorrow hopefully they'll still be friends.

Anything else with Patrick Jane was impossible. Even if she wanted things to change.

Even if relationships did evolve.

Even if he was a romantic a heart.

Paperwork. She needed to focus on paperwork.

Practical paperwork.

xxxxx

An hour or so later Lisbon heard a knock on her office door.

She looked up with a half-smile, knowing the knock was mainly for show. She wasn't upset that he'd decided to pop in, though she hadn't really expected to see him again that evening. She'd figured he was settled in the attic for the evening.

"Hello," Jane said, setting a plastic back down on her coffee table.

"Hello," she replied, as she watched him curiously. "What's that?"

He shrugged. "I assumed that, as usual, you'd probably forgotten to feed yourself."

"You got me food?" she asked softly.

"Dinner, Lisbon," he corrected. "It's called dinner. We really need to talk about your eating habits if you don't even know that much."

She would have yelled at him for that comment, but he was handing her Pad Thai and spring rolls from her favourite Thai place, so she decided to be the bigger person and bite her tongue (though she did send him a warning glare).

"I didn't know the Thai place delivered this late," she remarked.

"I picked it up," Jane explained. "Had another errand to do on that side of town, thought I'd kill two birds with one stone."

"Ah."

"Still burning the midnight oil?" he asked.

"It's not that late," she defended, shutting her files.

"It's an expression, Lisbon," Jane said indulgently. "No need to be so literal."

She glared at him. She almost threw her spring roll at him, but she was hungry, so she substituted a pair of complimentary chopsticks.

"Coulda taken my eye out with that," Jane muttered.

She smirked. "Thanks for dinner, Jane."

"You're welcome," he replied.

"So," Lisbon said after a minute. "Anything new with you?"

Jane stared at her, "Since what, two hours ago?"

"Maybe," she said. "Or just in general."

Jane considered that. "Nope," he said after a minute. "And before you ask, I haven't seen any good movies lately either."

She chuckled. "I wasn't gonna ask," she assured him as she dug into her noodles.

Jane waited until she'd eaten a few bites before asking her his question. "So how many times have men asked you to handcuff them?" he wondered.

Lisbon nearly choked on her Pad Thai. "_Jane!"_

"What?" he asked innocently. "I'm an investigator Lisbon, inquiring minds and all that."

"Oh, yeah, like I'm going to answer _that_ question," she said sarcastically.

"Aww…" he said crouching so he was directly opposite her and staring right into her eyes. "Come on Teresa."

"Why do you care?" she asked.

"Why did you want to hear about Rigsby's bad date?" Jane shot back.

"Interested curiosity," she replied quickly.

"That plus mocking purposes," he supplied.

"So now I should tell you so you can mock me?" she checked.

"Of course not. But maybe I'm curious," he said playfully, though Lisbon thought she could hear a hint of something else underneath his tone.

"Far more than I wanted," she said eventually, knowing he wouldn't let it go until she gave him some sort of an answer.

"Implying that you _did_ want to handcuff some of them," Jane said thoughtfully.

"Oh for crying out…"

"No, that's interesting, Lisbon," Jane continued. "The desire I mean. I'm not going to pry and ask you whether you ever actually went through with it. Even I have some boundaries," he assured her. "And it's not that surprising, given your issues with control, that you'd have considered it. Healthy even…" he trailed off with a grin.

"Great," Lisbon growled into her Pad Thai, sure her face was bright red. "Well now that you've had your fun…"

Jane reached and tilted her chin back up towards him. "It's not just fun, Lisbon," he assured her.

She froze, eyes wide as she stared at the man sitting opposite her, looking endearingly sincere.

When he saw her expression Jane finally seemed to realize what he was doing, and snatched his hand away from her face like it'd been burned.

"What is it then?" she asked after a second.

"I can't just be interested?" he asked softly.

"You can…" she admitted, not breaking eye contact.

"Just because you had a few bad experiences doesn't mean you should abandon love altogether," he said softly.

She stared at him. It was really all that she could manage.

"Don't give up on romance completely, Teresa," Jane pleaded in a near whisper. "I know you haven't, whatever you might say."

"Have you?" she asked feeling slightly breathless.

"I hope not," he replied before he could stop himself.

She swallowed, her throat suddenly tight. "Food's getting cold," she said hoarsely.

"Yeah," he replied, sitting back and sending her a more normal smile. "And my attempts to make sure you eat at regular intervals will hardly be successful if I keep you from eating it."

"I can feed myself," Lisbon insisted, summoning a smile of her own from somewhere.

"You _can_," Jane agreed. "I'm just not sure that you always _do._"

Lisbon stared at him in disbelief. "I'm sorry, _I _don't eat according to a regular schedule? That's a little rich coming from you wouldn't you say? How many days have you spent up in that attic, foraging from the various caches of snacks you have hidden up there?"

Jane's eyes twinkled at her from over his Pad Thai. "And usually," he reminded her. "When that happens, I can usually count on my boss dropping by _unexpectedly_ with dinner of some kind."

Lisbon rolled her eyes at him, though she figured the effect was ruined by her smile.

This. This was why she liked him. "Yeah, well, someone has to watch you."

"Guess we'll have to watch out for each other," he corrected gently.

"Oh eat your dinner, Patrick," she ordered indulgently.

"Yes ma'am." He said, saluting with his chopsticks.

Lisbon shook her head with a grin. Yup. Her longest relationship may have been some sort of strange, friendship with her unbalanced consultant, but hey, at least she got dinner out of the deal.

She stole another glance at him, lounging in her office, eating Pad Thai like he belonged there.

(Maybe _because_ he did.)

Maybe it didn't matter that she wasn't always sure what the hell she was doing.

Because whatever it was, it somehow felt okay.

And because whatever else she could say about it, Jane was still a relationship, and damn it, so was she.

xxxxx

The End

Again, post-ep not quite what I was intending it to be when I started out, but I don't so much mind. I swear this series has a mind of its own though.

Also, this chapter now has a very short tag (really, I wrote it, and it's actually short). It was actually originally the last scene of this chapter, but I'm not sure I like it that much. So I'm still considering on it. I may change my mind and cut it entirely. Besides, I wanted to get this up since I actually like how it turned out.


	13. TAG: Give a gift or two

A/N: Alright, so I'm still not sure about this tag. But I have been talked into it. So here you guys go. Enjoy.

3.11 TAG: Give a gift or two

xxxxx

It was about an hour after her impromptu dinner in her office with Jane when Lisbon finally pulled into her driveway. She'd left Jane to head back up to the attic. Some days getting him out of there was way more trouble than it was worth. She just needed to keep coaxing him down from time to time, or visiting him up there and trying to break him from his obsession, if only for an hour or so.

But she was too tired for Checkers tonight. Tonight she was looking forward to collapsing on her couch and watching something mindless on television.

She stopped suddenly when she saw the package on her doorstep. Resisting the urge to draw her gun, she approached it carefully.

Her shoulders relaxed when she saw the note on top.

"Teresa, DON'T PANIC. I don't bite."

Chuckling to herself (and recognizing the handwriting), Lisbon picked up the bag and brought it into her apartment, Jane's earlier comment about a mysterious second errand on this side of town suddenly making sense to her.

She tossed her purse on the couch and hung up her jacket before turning back to her bundle.

Untying the handles of the cloth bag, Lisbon didn't even try not to pretend (even if only to herself) that she wasn't curious.

Then the handles of the bag fell open and she could only stare at its contents.

They were unexpected to say the least.

The bag was full of books. Books and movies.

Jane had certainly picked an eclectic selection. Lisbon was now the proud owner of classics like Jane Austen, the Brontes, Lucy Maud Montgomery and Louisa May Alcott. She was also seeing things that were more modern like the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, Atonement or Howl's Moving Castle, but then she also had Georgette Heyer, and yes, even Nora Roberts.

The movies were a little less varied. She had a bunch of the romantic classics, The Philadelphia Story, Casablanca, When Harry Met Sally, You've Got Mail, Pretty Woman… In fact, she already owned some of them.

Still…

Jane had effectively sent her a bag full of romance.

And a note, she realized, when she got to the bottom of the bag.

"Hi Lisbon," it read. "I've decided you needed a little frivolity in your life. Just drop off any duplicates in the attic sometime (I'm sure there are some). And put down the books on effective leadership for one night would you? Everyone needs a good love story from time to time. Even CBI agents, just ask Rigsby. Or maybe don't. He might not be the best example. Odd as it sounds, ask Cho (preferably when I'm in the room so I can see his reaction). Besides, I saw your smile earlier. You know you want to indulge in a good love story tonight. So I think you should just let yourself enjoy my little surprise. Jane."

Lisbon smiled again as she folded up the note and stared at the pile in front of her.

Well, she had been planning on crashing in front of the TV anyway, so why not?

Picking a movie out at random she popped it into her DVD player and curled up on her couch.

Maybe she could let herself enjoy her gift.

After all, if her consultant wanted to give her a little romance, who was she to stop him?

xxxxx

The end


	14. Post 312: Red couch, blue couch

A/N: Another one of the fluffyish ones, well as fluffy as this series gets at least (And this episode is THE COUCH. COUCH COUCH COUCH COUCH COUCH. Ahem). And yeah, the title really has nothing to do with anything, but I hate coming up with titles, and this one amused me, so I figured why not?

This post-ep leads into the next two (at least in my head), so I hope you like it. And again, thanks for all the lovely reviews.

xxxxx

Post 3.12: Red couch, blue couch, old couch, new couch

xxxxx

Jane ambled towards Lisbon's office in search of his favourite CBI Agent. He'd been wandering in her general direction more often than usual in recent weeks (even for him), though he pretended he wasn't. Ignoring it made things easier.

Unsurprisingly her door was ajar; Jane was about to simply walk in when something caught his eye.

Lisbon was lying on her couch.

Really lying on it, not half-reclining for a second while she read a stray sentence. Oh, no, Lisbon was completely stretched out, legs crossed, head on a pillow, completely engrossed in her file. And it was obvious she had been for some time.

Lying on her new couch that is. Jane really didn't really care how long she'd been reading the file, though the times of the two actions probably did roughly coincide.

What surprised him the most though wasn't the fact that Lisbon was actually lying on the couch, but his own reaction to seeing her there looking so utterly relaxed. Well… looking mostly relaxed at least. She _was_ still technically working.

But even an only _mostly_ relaxed Teresa Lisbon made an extremely attractive picture, one that Jane felt the urge to examine up close.

After all, it was quite the change from her usual authoritative demeanour.

And the contrast was completely charming.

The consultant smiled to himself.

Ha. He'd known she'd like it.

Jane leaned in the door jamb and let himself study her. "Comfortable?" he asked after a moment.

Lisbon turned her head from her file to look at him. Jane was surprised to see that, contrary to his expectations, she didn't look in the least bit guilty or embarrassed at being caught on her originally unwanted couch. Maybe she'd decided to accept his gift gratefully and gracefully, though it was far more likely that she'd simply resigned herself to her new piece of office furniture since Van Pelt hadn't been able to track down her old one (he'd done everything in his power to make it nearly impossible to make her old couch hard to locate). Still, he'd optimistically hope it was the former reason.

"Not bad," Lisbon admitted with a shrug, as she started to sit up.

Jane waved a hand at her. "No, don't get up," he ordered gently as he sat across from her. He was enjoying the sight of her too much to let her move. "After all you need to break in your new addition."

"Thanks to you," she remarked dryly.

"Thanks to me," he agreed.

Lisbon took a deep breath, "It's not that I don't appreciate the thought Jane." she started to explain.

"Lisbon…"

She sighed. "I just don't see what was so wrong my the old one."

Jane smiled softly. No she wouldn't. More often than not _he_ was the one lying on her couch, not her. It'd just been the week previously when he'd been lying on the old one as they'd discussed a case. He'd realized something that day: his boss's couch was really uncomfortable.

Oh, it hadn't been a horrible couch by any means. Perfectly serviceable, and perfectly practical. It wasn't so uncomfortable that you noticed it right away. But the overall discomfort crept up on you, and upon closer acquaintance with that particular piece of furniture, its detractions became more and more apparent.

No wonder Lisbon almost never sat on her old couch, let alone lay down on the thing. She probably hadn't made the connection. It wasn't the sort of thing she'd ever even think of noticing; such an impractical consideration after all (especially when compared to the things she had to notice as a part of her job).

Good thing he was around to notice those things for her.

Not only was he particularly observant generally, but as he'd said, he'd also been a frequent visitor in his boss's office of late.

And Lisbon's old couch hadn't just been generally uncomfortable. It'd been short.

Something she probably wouldn't consider a problem, given that she was short herself. But she wasn't _that_ short. Jane wasn't quite sure that even the petite Agent Lisbon could fully stretch out on the old one, not comfortably at least. Which was ridiculous given that couches long enough to accommodate her frame were readily available.

On top of everything else, its cushions were hardly what you'd call plush. And the left one had been a bit worn out.

Really, the whole piece of furniture had been average in the extreme. Nondescript.

Even the colour had been unobtrusive, couldn't have faded into the metaphorical woodwork more if it'd tried. And then Lisbon had faded into it in turn whenever she did actually sit on it. The colour smothered her.

Her new couch popped, made the office interesting (and in Jane's opinion, better reflected its occupant's personality). The white was a stark contrast to the dark in the rest of the room.

Shaking himself out of his train of thought, Jane grinned affectionately at the still-lounging woman on the other side of the room. When Lisbon grinned back at him as he moved closer, Jane was forced to admit that the room wasn't the only thing the light-coloured couch contrasted nicely with.

He'd be lying if he said that he hadn't considered how her dark hair would look fanned out against the light-coloured cushions, an effect that was only amplified by the fact that she often wore dark clothing.

(She'd been smiling up at him in his fantasies too.)

Like he'd said, Teresa Lisbon made an attractive picture. The new couch set the woman off to her advantage (something that wasn't particularly difficult). You couldn't help but notice her now.

(Not that he'd been having a problem noticing her before.)

Jane resisted the urge to reach a hand out and touch her. Just gently, a simple brush against her arm, maybe take the file from her under the pretence of seeing what she was working on so late.

But he didn't dare do it.

He'd been getting far too close to her far too often lately.

It needed to stop.

(Although, even knowing that he needed to stop, Jane couldn't seem to stop himself from dropping by her office under even the flimsiest pretence.)

"Nothing was really _wrong_ with your old couch, Lisbon," he assured her. "Except that everything was."

She frowned in an amused sort of confusion. "Sometimes you make absolutely no sense when you talk, you know that right?"

"Are you saying it's now _too late_ for philosophy?" Jane wondered.

"What?"

"Well, before it was too early…" he started to explain.

She smirked. "_That_ wasn't philosophy. _That_ was little more than nonsense."

He grinned, foolishly pleased by her assessment. He loved that his gift had completely confused her. He even loved that she wanted her old one back (so set in her ways was his Teresa). He loved that she had no idea what to make of him. Sometimes she scared him with her flashes of perception where he was concerned, and the fact that he could still confuse her so completely was reassuring.

"I understood my remark perfectly," he informed her.

She huffed derisively. "You don't say."

"Your old couch was just _wrong,_ Teresa," he assured her. "This one's much better."

"Hmph."

He grinned; the woman was almost sulking. It shouldn't have been endearing. "You know Lisbon, I think it's a sorry state of affairs when you can't even give up enough control to accept a surprise gift from a friend. After all, it's not like I _stole_ your couch."

"Next best thing," she grumbled. "You didn't even _ask_ me first."

"That would have ruined the surprise," Jane pointed out, eyes twinkling.

"Yeah, well how would you like it if one day I just replaced _your_ couch without asking?" she asked.

Jane froze, before shrugging off the momentary panic. She wouldn't. He knew she wouldn't, no matter how much she threatened. "Ah, but you see dear, my couch suits me. And now your couch suits you."

"So you say," Lisbon muttered, trying to look irritated, but her lips were threatening to quirk up into a smile.

"I do say," Jane agreed. "And I am a bit of an expert where couches are concerned."

"Useful subject to specialize in," Lisbon remarked dryly.

"Which is why it's lucky couches aren't my only area of expertise," Jane replied with an easy grin.

She smiled back.

He wasn't lying about his reasoning. Discomfort aside, he'd never really thought the dark one suited her. It was too cold. It just wasn't _right._ Oh, it was acceptable, but it wasn't what his Lisbon wanted or needed. She needed something that she could sink into, something comfortable. She'd never recognize that, or even admit it, let alone ask for it. But he _knew_.

He'd bought her the couch because he was her friend, and he wanted to do something for her that meant something to her. That was all. And couches had become kind of special to him, to _them_ even. After all, she was always let him sleep on hers, _any_ of hers.

It had just seemed appropriate.

"Jane?" he heard Lisbon ask tentatively, jolting him from his thoughts.

"Hm?"

"Where'd you go just then?" she wondered.

He shook his head. "Nowhere," he assured her, smiling into her eyes.

She met his gaze for a moment before breaking it abruptly, and glancing around her awkwardly, once again fixating on the couch.

"I still don't know why you…" she said slowly. "I mean, even _if_ my old couch wasn't right…"

Jane sighed. He was going to give her a reason for buying the damn couch. She'd never let it go otherwise.

And he couldn't tell her the real reason, well, not the whole thing at least.

He couldn't just tell her that he wanted to buy her a present. Because she wouldn't believe that. And he _definitely_ couldn't tell her he wanted to give her things because he knew he could never do enough to make up for all the pain he'd already caused her, and probably would cause her later.

But he could tell her a part of the truth.

"The other one was too short me to lie down on," he said with his widest grin. "It was uncomfortable. Too short for you too, all things considered, but since I lie down on your couch more than you do…" he trailed off.

To his surprise she laughed suddenly. "You jerk," she said the amusement in her voice in direct opposition to her words. Jane knew her well enough to listen to the tone of her voice. "I should have guessed the reason would be something self-serving."

He shrugged self-deprecatingly, a little bit hurt that she believed his selfish reason so easily, though he refused to show it. "Well, like I said, your old couch was too short for you too, Lisbon," he added. "In fact, I don't think I've ever saw you lying down on your old one completely, not once. Which leads me to believe that even you recognize the superiority of the new one."

"Or I'm just trying to break it in," she shot back as a reminder.

"Well," Jane said slowly (and slightly sadly). "At least you're resigned to it."

Lisbon frowned slightly at the change in his tone and the fact that he wasn't meeting her eyes anymore.

"The extra length means that you can completely stretch out, as you've already discovered," Jane explained, staring at her filing cabinets. "It's better for your back, better lumbar support."

"Better lumbar support?" she repeated softly.

"Yes. You crouched up on that old short thing can't have been good for your spine," Jane elaborated. "And given the physical demands of your job you really should be careful of that sort of thing."

"I should?" Lisbon asked in the same gentle tone.

"Yes," Jane confirmed with a decisive nod. "Wouldn't want you to develop alignment problems. They can cause chronic pain issues."

Lisbon paused. "You bought me a couch to help prevent me from being in chronic pain?" she asked after a moment, genuine emotion creeping into her voice.

Jane stiffened.

Lisbon noticed. She bit her lip.

"Well… Yes, maybe," Jane admitted after a moment, standing up abruptly and walking to the other side of her office under the guise of flipping through a file on the filing cabinet he'd been staring at so determinedly for the last thirty seconds. "What if I did? I wouldn't want you to be at anything less than your physical best Lisbon," he explained, fully intent on justifying the gift. "After all, I do rely on you to swoop in to my rescue, as proven just this week, when you arrived in the nick of time to catch our shady friend the bus driver from escaping. He pointed a gun at me you know. And while I may not have been in immediate danger in that particular instance, I shudder to think what might happen to me if one day you're in too much pain to arrive at just the crucial moment."

"Of course," Lisbon murmured, watching him as he paced around her office.

"I mean, I often rely on you for my continued ability to breathe" Jane explained, the rationale of what he was saying comforting him; he instinctively walked back towards her.

Lisbon pushed herself into a sitting position against the arm of the couch as he got closer.

"That you do," she agreed a little stupidly.

"You can't play white knight if you're injured," he added. He needed her to come to his rescue, always needed her. It wasn't fair, but it was true, and she seemed to accept that.

Teresa Lisbon was the closest thing to a saviour he had.

Jane pulled a chair closer to the new couch and sat down across from her.

Despite his best intentions to stay back, he'd been inching towards her fairly consistently. He couldn't help it.

"I'm a bit of an unexpected white knight," Lisbon joked.

"Only to people who haven't met you," her consultant smirked.

She tried to send him an unimpressed look.

He ignored it.

His smirk transformed into something much gentler instead. "I don't like to see you in pain, Lisbon."

Now it was her turn to pause. "Jane?"

"It's a nice couch, Teresa," he assured her, running a finger along her forearm. "Very comfy. A good couch is very important; take it from someone who knows."

It was all he could say.

(He'd never be able to say enough. It wasn't fair.)

He wasn't sure she understood that.

That buying a couch for her was all that he could do. She might get the wrong idea otherwise (or worse, someone far more dangerous might).

He was too close.

(Maybe repetition would drill that idea into his brain enough that he stuck to it.)

Lisbon stared at him a second longer.

This time it was her turn to reach out and place her hand on top of his.

"Okay, I'll give the couch a try," she promised.

His fingers curved through hers automatically.

She wasn't actually pulling him closer physically, but she may well have been. Suddenly Jane found himself perched on the edge of her couch, his thigh brushing against hers. Now he was closer than ever, and without any idea how it'd happened.

He blamed the eyes currently staring up at him.

There'd always been something about her eyes.

At the moment they looked almost happy, certainly pleased at least.

He let his own eyes smile in reply.

"Thank you Teresa," he told her dryly. "I know it must be a huge sacrifice on your part, to try and let yourself enjoy a simple present."

She smirked. "A book is a simple present, Jane. Candles or hand lotion are _simple_ presents. A large and _unexpected _piece of furniture is _not_ a simple present."

"Ah."

"I do like this cushion though," she admitted, reflexively snuggling back into the large green pillow behind her. "It's actually quite comfy."

Jane felt his smile stretch. She did like it, _all_ of it. She really _did_. She just wasn't ready to admit it yet; maybe she never would be. "The throw's nice too," he assured her. "Way softer than your old one."

"Hmm. I noticed that," Lisbon said slowly, fingering the blanket lying over the back of the couch. "You certainly went high quality."

"Of course," Jane murmured. That'd been the point, to get her a _better_ couch. Of course he'd gone high end. He'd spent more than he'd ever admit to on the foolish thing, certainly more than he'd ever tell her. She'd smack him if she found out. But you had to pay a bit if you wanted a little luxury and he didn't care about the money.

Suddenly Lisbon laughed softly, tilting her head towards him. "I can't believe you really bought me a couch."

He shrugged in pleasure.

"I mean, it's just so very _Jane_," she continued. "Only _you_ would ever think to buy me a couch."

His eyes softened as her ran his thumb over hers (a small part of his brain arguing that the fact that their hands were still clasped probably wasn't ideal). But he didn't care, because the way she'd worded her comment confirmed (to him at least) that she really did want the couch, now that she'd had a chance to get used to the idea.

"Like I said, you needed a new couch; your old one was terrible," Jane reminded her.

"And might lead to chronic pain issues?" she doubled-checked, sounding almost hesitant.

(Almost hopeful.)

He sent her a quick smile and by a sharp nod in response.

Suddenly he felt her hand slip from out of his. He'd barely registered disappointment at that before her arms were around his neck and her chest was pressed against his. "Thank you, Patrick," she whispered in his ear.

"You're welcome, Teresa," he whispered back, tightening his arms around her back.

The hug was awkward, with him still awkwardly perched on the side of the couch and her upper body twisted towards him in a way that couldn't be entirely comfortable.

But he made no move to let her go. Didn't want to let her go. She felt so warm in his arms, so familiar.

If he was honest he'd missed the familiarity of her.

(If he was _really_ honest, it was something he sometimes wished for again.)

(He was almost never really honest.)

She still smelled the same and there was still that moment where she relaxed totally against him. Just for a second. He liked that moment.

But that moment only every lasted a second or two (unless she was asleep).

And it was over now. Lisbon was already pulling back, head bowed in embarrassment (or maybe some other emotion best not analyzed or even acknowledged).

Not that he was making any great effort to meet her gaze either.

(Like he'd said, her eyes were problematic.)

(Her eyes drew him towards her; his brain ordered him to back away. And sometimes Jane could almost feel his brain losing. It was becoming an issue, and one he knew he wouldn't be able to ignore for much longer.)

Lisbon coughed awkwardly. "Um."

Jane shot her one of his practically-patented over-bright smiles as he moved swiftly back to his chair. "I'm glad you're coming around on the couch," he said with false ease.

"Yeah," she said, with an awkward smile of her own.

"Would you like some tea?" he asked quickly, needing to break the tension. "I thought I'd make a cup."

He heard her take a deep breath in not-quite relief. "Nah," she said with a wave of her hand, her smile more natural. "I'm good, probably won't stay much longer tonight, but you go."

"Okay," Jane said easily as he stood, glad of the excuse for a bit of much-needed distance. "Well, if I don't see you before you leave, have a lovely evening, Lisbon."

"What's left of it at least," she said wryly.

He acknowledged the point with a nod before turning on his heel and strolling casually out of her office.

"Hey Jane?" she called just as he reached the doorway.

"Hm?" he asked, sticking his head back in.

"Thanks again for the couch," she said one last time.

He allowed himself a small smile; he'd let himself be pleased by her pleasure for another second or two. "Of course. Good Night Lisbon."

"Good Night Jane."

With a final glance at her, once again lying on her couch, Jane walked to the break room to put the kettle on.

He frowned to himself as he waited for the water to boil.

While it was certainly a good thing that Lisbon liked her couch (he _was_ glad about that, very glad), and hugging her had been… nice, he still had a problem.

He was way too close.

He'd been too close all case. The two of them had come together on her new couch for conversation more than once. His gift was becoming their own little meeting place. The idea reminded Jane of his earlier case-related conversations with Lisbon, the first mainly centering around her original confusion about his purchase, the second her frustration over the case and an un-caught serial killer.

The second had been more interesting.

Because Teresa Lisbon had been frustrated. Very frustrated.

Apparently she _really_ hated serial killers.

(Something Jane couldn't help wondering if she had more personal reasons for than just the obvious – hating multiple murderers on principle. It was a tempting idea.)

And Lisbon had no leads on the supposed resurgence of a serial killer in her own backyard.

She'd actually betrayed a flash of genuine emotion about it.

To him.

Or maybe the display of emotion hadn't been quite so unintentional. _Maybe_ she didn't mind if he saw her frustrations (whether he deserved it or not, he wanted so much for her to trust him with things). And Jane knew how much her job meant to her, knew what it was probably costing her to admit that she was having trouble with a case, something she'd perceive as weakness.

And yet Teresa Lisbon had told him about what was upsetting her.

Maybe he, Patrick Jane, her irritating consultant, was her confidante.

Not Rigsby, not Van Pelt, not even Cho. They were heragents.

_He_ was the one she talked to.

It was ridiculous how much that simple fact had pleased him.

So he'd told her the truth, to ease her mind, so she wouldn't worry so much.

He told her all about his little plan, that there was no serial killer, that he'd invented the ruse to draw out the real killers.

Admittedly that particular revelation didn't exactly have a calming effect on his frazzled boss.

Lisbon had probably been about a step away from killing him herself and hiding his mangled body in a junkyard. Had her nerves not already been a bit on edge, Jane was sure he'd have gotten a much bigger scolding. Actually, come to think of it, he'd gotten off lightly.

Of course, they'd caught the killer thanks to that same plan. Had things gone badly, Lisbon's mood may have been significantly different.

Jane was glad she wasn't angry with him. And he found that he _liked_ telling her about his methods.

(_Especially_ when she didn't get angry.)

Sometimes he tried to make her peevish, either by assuming she couldn't follow his logic, or ending interviews too early without checking with her first.

No matter how many times he did it Lisbon never failed to challenge him, to rise to the bait. It was almost reassuring. And her irritation was usually followed by a conspiratorial grin when he did explain the plan. Well, on the good days at least. On the bad days she either smacked him for being patronizing, or she got angry because he'd gone too far.

(On the best days she'd already worked things out for herself and was operating right alongside him.)

It was fun having a partner sometimes.

And she got back at him too, when she could, like by abandoning him to get back to the CBI on his own. Never anything serious to cause him genuine discomfort (that wasn't her way), just enough to score a point.

He liked that about her too.

Which was bad.

(Very bad.)

Maybe he was involving her too much in his plans. He shouldn't get so used to relying on her (but he _did _rely on her; she always got there just in time).

He shouldn't wish for…

He shouldn't wish at all.

He really was way too close.

(And yet he missed her.)

xxxxxx

The end

Why yes, that _was_ my obsession with J/L hugging rearing its head again. Why do you ask?


	15. Post 313: Inadequate Information

A/N: Okay, here we go. This one is a bit of a development chapter in a way, though it ended up being quite long. It leads up to the next one (which should go up Thursday, with a tag on Friday) and it prepares for another shift of their relationship. It's not my favourite ep of the season (understatement: the only one I like less is the next one), but it does raise a couple of interesting issues for J/L, so that's handy. The tone of this one is different too, not as light as the last couple. It's the start of what I'm referring too in my head as the mid-season angst bubble.

As always, hope you enjoy and reviews are very much appreciated.

xxxxx

Post 3.13: Inadequate information

xxxxx

Jane chased after Lisbon seconds after she left her office.

He knew there was something she wasn't telling him (specifically how she managed to have any influence whatsoever over the man in charge of the entire CBI).

Jane wasn't sure if he was fascinated, annoyed, or worried by that unexpected development.

After all, leverage over Bertram smacked too much of playing with fire, and that concerned him.

On the other hand, the fact that Lisbon had somehow managed to manipulate her boss was intriguing. Had Jane been in a better mood, he'd have been more inclined to appreciate that fact.

But as it was, Jane was annoyed. Lisbon hadn't reacted at all how he'd expected her to for the entire case. First she'd treated him like a particularly troublesome underling, and then she'd basically sarted ordering him around. She hadn't even talked to him first, not even about his speeding ticket. She'd just _assumed_ he was in the wrong.

Jane thought that, given how things were between them, that she'd have at least wanted to have a conversation.

Not even necessarily about the speeding ticket, but about anything.

But _no_. Not Teresa Lisbon. She'd been too busy to bother with talking to the the likes of him, apparently out of annoyance that he'd gotten a parking ticket. Which he'd only _gotten_ because he was in such a rush to get to _her_ crime scene to solve _her_ case.

(Okay, he probably would have been speeding regardless of where he was going, but he _had_ been on his way to solve a murder. Surely that should give him a bit of leeway. Surely.)

And _then_ he'd been the one stuck in the middle of the damn courthouse, right in position to be taken hostage by a man with a big gun (he really _hated _guns), only because Lisbon had insisted he pay his stupid ticket. If she hadn't made him, none of that would have happened.

But Lisbon made a deal with the local police chief, told the man he was more than willing to arrest her troublesome consultant if Jane didn't pay the ticket.

So much for team loyalty, Jane thought with a humph.

Actually, she'd been patronizing him all case. Like he was some silly child she could just order around. Like he was just some troublesome puppy with a handy skill set that she unfortunately had to deal with. And yet _she'd_ been the one who'd been in charge when an innocent witness had gotten shot through a window. _By a cop no less._

But he, Patrick Jane, was the one she'd been dismissive of.

Now Lisbon had Bertram's attention.

And Jane didn't like it. Any of it.

He'd even been _worried_ about her when he'd noticed the Director approaching her office.

Not that Lisbon had needed or wanted his help (_of course not)_. Told him it was _'just business.'_ Yeah. Like Bertram was in the habit of dropping by the offices of his Agents in charge on a whim. Especially on a case which had Lisbon even more wary of stepping on politician's toes than usual.

Jane snorted mentally.

Apparently Lisbon had achieved her goal and kept hurt feelings to a minimum while he'd been busy trying to keep their hostage-taker calm. Good for her. From a political perspective she was probably _glad _that he'd been out of the way in the courthouse. She'd probably been worrying about the politics of the situation while he'd been busy solving the case.

Except even Jane at his most irritating knew that wasn't quite true. He was sure the potential victims had been Lisbon's primary concern.

Maybe something else was going on.

Jane remembered hearing rumblings of tension with the locals. He'd just assumed part of that was thanks to him (he certainly hadn't gone out of his way to play nice).

But maybe the (unbelievably irritating) panicky feeling he'd gotten in the bottom of his stomach when he'd noticed Bertram turn into Lisbon's office wasn't entirely unwarranted.

(Superiors wandering into her office unexpectedly often didn't mean good news for her and he always liked to hang around nearby, just in case there's something he could do.)

The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that he was missing something.

Jane picked up his pace and caught up to Lisbon just before she reached the elevator. "So you have your ways, huh?" he asked lightly, wondering if she'd give him a hint as to what she had on Bertram.

He saw Lisbon stiffen briefly, before she exhaled and let her shoulders relax. "Why is that so surprising?" she asked with a hint of a smirk.

Jane felt a twinge of annoyance at her reply, though he wasn't sure why. "Oh, I'm sure you could charm birds out of the trees if you wanted to," he assured her smoothly (with just a hint of condescension). "I just never expected Bertram to be one of your targets."

This time Lisbon frowned. "What exactly are you implying?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips.

Jane's eyebrows shot up when he realized what he'd inadvertently implied. Oops. That had been a clumsy mistake, which actually irritated him further. (Now _he_ was making mistakes around her. What was it about this woman? Just how much was she distracting him?) "Not that!" Jane hastened to assure his boss. After all, the idea of Lisbon even considering trying to flirt her way up the ladder was so ludicrous he hadn't even considered the obvious innuendo in his original statement. He needed to get the conversation back on track. "Just that you hardly seem the type to hobnob with the boss," he explained to her. "Getting on the boss' good side never seemed like much a priority to you. And you don't exactly love the politics of your job, for all that you play by the rules."

Lisbon watched him warily. Then her expression lightened. "I do play by the rules," she agreed. "Unlike _some_ people."

Jane barely suppressed his scowl.

She'd made her opinion of his methods very clear over the past few days. He could still hear the multiple mini-lectures running through his brain.

"I don't like being on my boss' bad side. Sometimes cooperating is easier in the long run," Lisbon continued. "But like I said, Bertram's visit really wasn't a big deal." No way was she going to tell Jane about their boss' combined praise and warning. Jane obviously didn't know about all the jurisdictional issues surrounding the case, and she wasn't going to be the one to enlighten him. He'd had a bee in his bonnet all day about something or other where she was concerned, and she didn't feel like dealing with it. The man wouldn't even pay a simple parking ticket to make things go more smoothly. Let him sit and stew about why the director had been to see her if he wanted to. She was in no mood to give in to his whim, or not-so-subtle digging for information. Besides, she didn't want to hear his teasing about how she'd successfully manipulated someone (_broken the rules_, a voice in her head taunted). Idiot'd probably take credit, say he was rubbing off on her or something equally obnoxious.

"Not a big deal," Jane repeated. "And yet you're confident you can get Bertram to pay my parking ticket? Tsk tsk Lisbon. Why don't I believe you?"

"You rarely believe anyone?" she deflected.

"Hey!"

"Alright Jane," she said, crossing her arms after pushing the button to call the elevator and praying it would come quickly. "You tell me. Why do you think Bertram came to see me?"

"I'm sure I don't know," Jane said. "Your refusal to tell me makes me suspicious. Indicates something _is _going on. Something more than a simple feminine desire to appear mysterious."

To his surprise Lisbon laughed.

"You're one to talk about wanting to look mysterious!" she scoffed. "You, who loves nothing more than keeping people in the dark about what you'll do next or trying to guess your motivations. It's really nothing Jane," she insisted. "Seriously, don't worry about it."

Jane felt his level of annoyance with her slowly increase, though he was careful to keep it off his face. After all, Lisbon didn't need to act like their boss's boss making an almost-after-hours personal visit to her office wasn't at least a little strange. And she needn't to act like his (a _friend's_) worrying about her was ridiculous.

So Jane did what he always did when things got complicated; he pasted on a smile and refused to let her know what he was thinking. If she wanted to be mysterious, then she could be; he wouldn't let her know what he was thinking either. "Alright, I'll let you have your little secrets," he said, with a smile.

"Thanks," she said dryly, tapping her foot and wishing the elevator would come. The stray thought surprised her. She hadn't been this uncomfortable in Jane's company in months. Even two minutes ago in her office things hadn't been uncomfortable. Jane had been childish and uncooperative, still was, but this was different. What had changed? Whatever it was, she didn't like it.

"Heaven forbid I try to have a conversation," Jane muttered. Oops. He hadn't meant to say that. Hopefully she hadn't heard him.

"What?" Lisbon asked, surprised, not catching the words, but having an idea what he'd said.

He cleared his throat. "I was just concerned is all," Jane said with a wave of his hand. "But since it was nothing I guess I was just being silly."

Lisbon's shoulders loosened a little. "Jane…"

He shook his head and gestured towards the opening elevator doors. "It's fine Lisbon. You're right; it's none of my business."

"Everything's fine," she assured him, suddenly uncertain about what to say.

"I'm sure it is," he agreed with a nod. "I hope you enjoy what's left of your evening," he added as he turned back towards to the bullpen.

Lisbon sighed. "I'll see you tomorrow?" she called after him, irritated when it sounded like a question.

Jane turned back, saw the uncertainty. "Of course," he replied, his smile shifting into something almost genuine.

Lisbon nodded, watching him until the elevator doors cleared.

It was probably for the best not to have whatever conversation they needed to that night. Clearly they were both feeling punchy, or tired, or _something_. Distance and a good night's sleep would straighten out whatever was going on with her consultant and help her sort out everything running through her own head.

At least she hoped it would.

xxxxxx

Jane tried to let go of his annoyance with Lisbon as he walked into the bullpen. Although, instead of forgetting it, maybe he just needed to figure out what he was going to do about it. Because he didn't see the mild irritation in the back of his mind going away anytime soon. It'd been popping up from time to time for the better part of the last two weeks, since the couch incident, when he'd let himself get drawn way too close to her. He'd just been doing a better job of keeping that irritation under control before now.

But Lisbon had an uncanny ability of getting under his skin.

Jane nodded to Cho and Rigsby as he walked into the bullpen and dropped onto his couch. He desperately needed to think. Van Pelt had already left for the day and no doubt the two male members of the team would be leaving soon as well.

"Well, I'm done for the day, I think," Rigsby said suddenly, confirming his thoughts.

"Yeah," Cho agreed.

"Bet Lisbon's glad this case is over, huh?" Rigsby added, conversationally.

Jane turned slightly in their direction, curious in spite of himself.

Cho just smirked in reply.

"Why would Lisbon be happier about this case being over than any other?" Jane asked neutrally.

"Oh come on man," Rigsby said with an incredulous look.

Jane sat up, giving the conversation his full attention.

Rigsby sighed. "Well, I mean, right from the start it was going to be a tricky one. Bertram called her basically the second she got to the crime scene with a none-too-subtle message."

Cho nearly snorted. "Yeah, cooperate with the potentially politically important mayor with an exaggerated sense of self-importance or you're screwed."

"And she knew the case was gonna get messy," Rigsby added. "Just a feeling." He didn't add that her 'feeling' had been a result of his own careless comment jinxing them all. "And she figured you'd be right at the centre of the trouble. You shoulda seen her face man, when we heard about a suspect behaving strangely after being pulled over for speeding…" Rigsby trailed off when he realized Jane didn't look particularly amused. "It was funny," he added weakly.

Jane assumed a neutral obsession. "That cop had issues. It was a petty speeding ticket."

"Except that you were speeding," Cho reminded him.

"Yeah, well," Jane said dismissively.

"Still," Rigsby interjected. "It was what, twenty bucks? Why not just suck it up and pay the thing? It's barely worth the hassle."

"It's the principle of the thing," Jane insisted stubbornly.

"You really do like making her life difficult, don't you?" Rigsby asked with an amused shake of his head.

"Whose?" Jane wondered.

Rigsby stared at him, not deigning to answer.

"Besides," Jane added cheerfully. "It seems to me that I did all the hard work, trapped in there with the killer, calming a panicking woman, trying to hypnotize a killer, then convincing him that I could help him after someone almost shot him unprovoked."

"Unprovoked!" Rigsby exclaimed. "Hardly. Maybe Crosswhite didn't fire first, but he did have a building full of hostages. Besides, we didn't know what Officer Rowley was up to, and Cho and I took him down afterwards ourselves."

"That must have been strenuous for you, a bit of a break from all the standing around and waiting with guns that you did," Jane said sarcastically. Honestly, they really could be such cops sometimes.

"Shut up Jane," Rigsby said curtly.

"Fine, if you're going to be sensitive about it," Jane said holding up his hands. "I didn't say it was your fault. Though I'd have thought Lisbon would have had tighter control on that sort of thing."

"Lisbon kind of had her hands full," Rigsby said, his voice angry. "Making sure that city hall didn't get overrun by a SWAT team, guns blazing not to mention trying to appease the mayor and deal with an openly hostile police chief."

"What?" Jane asked.

"Nothing," Rigsby muttered, completely fed up with the other man. "Never mind."

"Oh come on," Jane said, realizing he was definitely missing some important information and determined to fish a little more. "CBI, a.k.a. _Lisbon_, had jurisdiction. There was no way she'd let anyone come in if no shots were fired, so what did it matter if a few locals noses got bend out of joint. Especially our friendly police chief Nail, who was, need I remind you, _the killer._"

"Lisbon didn't have jurisdiction," Cho informed Jane bluntly, speaking for the first time.

"What?" Jane asked, confused.

"Lisbon didn't have jurisdiction," Cho repeated. "Not the whole time at least. She managed to get it back just in time to stop the building you and the rest of the hostages were sitting ducks in from being swarmed with a trigger-happy SWAT team."

"Yeah, not quite sure how she did that," Rigsby admitted. "Though it was nice timing."

Jane was watching Cho carefully. "Yeah, how did she do that?" he asked.

Cho turned towards him. "What do you care?" he asked after a second. "After all, we were just sitting on our thumbs outside while you fixed everything inside."

"I was stuck inside with a crazy man with a gun!" Jane defended. "How would I know what you guys were doing?"

"Exactly," Cho remarked.

Jane sighed. He'd probably deserved that. "So enlighten me then."

Cho stared at him for another second, glancing briefly at an equally curious Rigsby. He shrugged almost imperceptibly. "I did hear Lisbon ask Brenda if she could speak to a reporter, right before Chief Nail was going to order SWAT to go in," Cho said. "For some reason the boss specifically requested to speak to whichever reporter had the best access to Bertram. About ten minutes later and another phone call from Bertram later Lisbon was mysteriously back in control."

Rigsby whistled. "You think she leaked the fact that Bertram gave away CBI control to a reporter?"

Cho shrugged. "Don't know, didn't hear the interview."

"But she did something," Jane said almost admiringly. She _had_ leaked it to a reporter. It was the only thing that would explain what had happened.

"Guess that's your influence," Cho said as he grabbed his things. "I'm off. See you guys later."

"Night," Rigsby said absently. "I can't believe she… You really think she played Bertram?" he asked Jane.

Jane was busy turning things over in his mind, things suddenly making sense. Lisbon had taken a hell of a gamble and won. He was actually proud of her. Though the fact that her skills at manipulation were obviously better than he'd thought was worrying. "I think maybe she did," Jane said with a grin.

Rigsby whistled to himself again. "Boss has guts," he said.

"That she does," Jane agreed.

"Plus, she knew Nail's plan'd probably get people killed," Rigsby continued. "Of course, we didn't realize he was the killer at that point."

Yeah," Jane agreed. "She probably saved more than a few lives."

"That's the job," Rigsby said with a shrug. "See you tomorrow Jane."

"Yeah," Jane agreed. "Have a good night Rigsby."

"You to," the agent agreed.

Jane sat down on his couch in thought, barely noticing the other man's absence. He felt a little badly about his last conversation with the pint-sized senior agent. He may have been a little bit irritating and Lisbon had obviously been having a far worse day than he'd anticipated.

Still, she'd come out on top in the end.

She was a clever woman, maybe even a cunning woman. Jane was glad she was often on his side. But he feared the inevitable, that one event where they'd be in opposition.

He'd been certain he could get around her, but now, after being confronted with her obvious manipulation abilities he was having his doubts.

(Was she really getting better at out-manoeuvring people because of him? Would she continue to improve? What else did she have up her sleeve?)

And okay, maybe he owed her a bit of an apology about his attitude during the case, but he still felt he was in the right where Bertram was concerned. Lisbon might have mentioned what was going on with her, instead of shutting him out all the time.

Like he was just her consultant, another one of her employees, to be ordered about at will.

_He'd_ thought they were friends.

But all case she'd been ordering him around. Treating him like a child. Ordering him to pay his parking ticket was just the start. She'd lectured him about the law, always trying to instill some sort of moral into their conversations, like he wasn't enough of an adult to make up his own mind. He'd tried to stress to Chief Nail that he wasn't her underling, that he was her colleague, had a more equal footing. But her demeanour hadn't exactly helped. And then, when she'd suggested he try and get Crosswhite to release poor injured Donna (who'd been shot by a moronic cop, adding insult to injury). Like Jane hadn't already thought of that. Like he had no idea what he was doing.

He wasn't stupid.

He'd thought she'd known that he wouldn't deliberately put innocent people in harm's way.

At the very least she should have known how he felt about guns.

And yet she'd told him nothing.

Well, fine. He definitely wasn't paying his parking ticket.

Lisbon could get Bertram to do it if she wanted it paid so much.

Jane frowned. What had her meeting with Bertram been about though? After all, the man couldn't have been thrilled at being manipulated by an employee. Especially one several rungs below him on the company ladder so to speak.

And why hadn't Lisbon wanted to discuss it?

Jane stood up abruptly.

He needed to talk to her.

He was sick of not knowing things. Especially where she was concerned.

xxxxxx

Jane was knocking on her apartment door within half an hour.

Lisbon opened the door in her sleepwear; thankfully she had pyjama pants on underneath the oversized jersey this time. He really didn't know what he'd have done if she hadn't.

"Jane?" she asked as she stifled a yawn. "What are you doing here?"

She was obviously getting ready to curl up in bed or maybe on her couch. And Jane realized how long her day had obviously been. The woman looked half-exhausted.

He almost wished he'd just stayed away and let her sleep. Almost.

"I wanted to talk to you," he said. "Can I come in?"

Lisbon shook herself slightly. "Of course, sorry," she said, holding the door open to him. "Do you want anything to drink?"

"No thanks," Jane told her. "I'm sorry to intrude."

The apology confused her. "It's fine," she assured him. "I'm not doing anything in particular, just a bit tired. And since when do you care about intruding anyway? You show up on my doorstep all the time. I've gotten used to you by now," she said with a tentative smile.

Jane half-returned it. "Still, you must be getting tired of me."

Her eyebrows lowered in confusion. "Jane, what's going on?"

"I know you manipulated Bertram," he said bluntly. "Before. At the crime scene."

She sighed. She should have known. "Jane…"

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.

"Tell you what?" she countered, not appreciating his confrontational tone. It put her on edge and made her even more unwilling to confirm his suspicions than she had been before.

Jane practically growled in frustration. "You know what."

"Jane… I'm not having the greatest day." He opened his mouth to say something. "I know you're not either," Lisbon added, cutting him off. "And yeah, part of it that because I did things I'm no exactly proud of, or happy about."

"Somehow I don't think it was shame keeping you quiet," Jane said dryly.

She closed her eyes briefly. "Jane, even if I did kind of win this one, I can hardly go bragging about how I manipulated the boss to other CBI employees. Sometimes discretion is the better part of valour. As you know," she added with a significant look.

The fact that she was making a decent point didn't even register with him. "Since when I am I just another CBI employee?" he asked, his tone harsh.

Lisbon clenched her hands into fists. "That's not what I meant," she snapped in frustration.

"Well, that's what you said," Jane reminded her.

"I meant the more general case," Lisbon argued. "And besides, you _did_ ask me about it at the office office."

Jane looked incredulous. "Oh, so now that we're in your apartment everything'll be different? Planning on taking me into your confidence, Agent Lisbon?"

The use of her title stung; she wasn't even going to pretend it didn't. "Not while you're in this mood!" she retorted quickly.

"What mood is that?" Jane asked infuriately calmly. "We both know you're not exactly communicative at the best of times…"

"Oh, of all the _hypocritical…_" Lisbon started to say.

"I tell you things!" Jane interrupted quickly.

Now it was Lisbon's turn to look incredulous.

"_I do!_" Jane insisted. "At least I tell you when it's something related to the case." It was true. He'd been trying to keep her more involved in his thinking lately. He'd told her about lots of his plans Okay, part of that was because he needed her to save him, and part of it was because it was more fun to have a co-conspirator, but another part of it was because he was… he was… _trying_. He wasn't always good on it, but he'd been telling her about his plans _before_ he undertook them. Okay, sometimes I tell her right before, but _still_. It was better than nothing.

Apparently Lisbon felt no such need to tell him about work-related things.

Now, obviously she couldn't have told him about her authority issues _during_ the actual case, he'd been out of contact for most of it. But that problem was gone now; he was no longer being held hostage. She could talk to him now. If she wanted to.

Apparently she didn't want to.

Lisbon bit back a comment about how one of the perks of being the boss meant she wasn't actually required to tell him anything just in time. Jane may have been being infuriating, but he didn't deserve _that_. And it wouldn't have been true anyway. Especially since she rarely pulled rank on Jane. Not directly at least. It wasn't her style.

(And it would have been pointless anyway.)

Instead she forced herself to take a breath. "You love to keep me guessing," she says in as light a tone as she can manage. "And don't deny it."

Jane runs a frustrated hand through his hair. "I do," he agreed. "But the reason you're refusing to talk about this isn't to keep me guessing."

She bristled at the assumption that he had any idea why she was acting the way she was. Patrick Jane didn't always know her as well as he thought he did. She wasn't even entirely sure why she didn't want to talk about it. And his all-knowing attitude was irritating. Especially since he's been irritable all case. "Oh,_ you_ know why _I'm_ acting the way I am?" she asked sarcastically.

He shrugged, "Maybe."

Lisbon glared at him, her eyes guarded and cold.

(Jane had a sudden fiendish urge to make her react.)

"Did it ever occur to you that the reason I'm not talking to you about it is because _I'm_ not sure how I feel about it yet?" Lisbon asked him. "That I need some time to think?"

This time it was Jane's turn to pause. He supposed he'd have to give her the point. A desire to process her day was probably a part of the reason she hadn't told him. "You know," he said slowly. "Sometimes talking to someone helps you sort things out in your mind."

"And who do you talk things through with?" she asked neutrally.

He didn't hesitate, "You." When he talked to anyone that was.

She almost snickered. "Some of the time," she agreed.

Her dismissal made him defensive. "I talked through the fake serial killer with you on the case with the two dead women. And I told you about the bus route connecting them!" he reminded her. "And I talked to you about catching the crazy nurse at the alcohol rehabilitation clinic! I talk to you about loads of cases."

"You _made up_ that serial killer," Lisbon reminded him. "I _know _Dr. Montague suggested him first, but you were the one who tricked us all into thinking he was actually involved."

"Still," Jane said. "I told you about it."

"_Eventually,_" Lisbon reminded him. "And I'm sure there are loads of things you don't tell me."

"I'm not saying you have to tell me _everything,_ Lisbon," Jane snapped. "Just _some_ things."

"Then why is it so important that I talk to you about this?" she wondered. "And right now?" His bull-headed insistence was so irritating. Part of her wanted to refuse to talk, just _because_. She certainly wasn't above pettiness.

"Because I want to know!" Jane informed her.

"Right…" Lisbon said doubtfully.

"You know," Jane added, his tone calculated. "Cho said something interesting today, right after he explained how you'd almost certainly gone about manipulating your boss."

"And what's that?" Lisbon asked.

"That you breaking the rules and leaking the fact that you'd lost your command to a reporter was evidence of my influence over you," Jane explained. "Not sure if he was for or against the idea. Sometimes with Cho it's hard to tell."

Ah, Lisbon thought, suddenly understanding Jane's fascination with this particular topic. She'd known it wasn't just idle curiosity or disinterested concern. "And what do you think about it?" she asked him.

"Well, for a start, I think you just inadvertently confirmed your role in the events of the day," Jane informed her triumphantly.

"Of for Christ's sake…" Lisbon muttered, waving her hand dismissively. "Just forget it."

"No," Jane said, grabbing her arm. "I will not forget it."

"What do you want to hear, Jane?" Lisbon asked him. "Fine! Yeah, I leaked that Bertram pulled my authority for political reasons and it would probably have a negative effect on the outcome of the hostage situation because the locals clearly had some sort of personal involvement in the case. More personal than I knew, but there! Take it. I broke protocol. I anonymously leaked information to the press in hopes that it'd get back to the director and he'd be forced to give CBI back its authority. Now you can sit there and revel in how that confirms my control issues, or about how you're corrupting me or whatever. I know you love ignoring the rules. So let's have it! Come on!" Lisbon crossed her arms and waited for him to start gloating.

Jane's mouth tightened. The woman was insanely stubborn. Or maybe she was just insane. Like he'd only wanted to hear about her day so he could hold it over her_._ What the hell did she think of him? And when had he lost the way so completely in this conversation? "That's not why…" he started to explain. Except then he realized, maybe it was. Maybe a part of it _was._ Not all of it, but a small part. Jane started pacing around her living room, while Lisbon watched silently, an expression he couldn't quite read on her face.

"Okay," he said turning back towards her after a moment. "I admit, I may have something of an affinity for rule-breaking."

"That's an understatement," she interrupted.

He glared at her. "_But_, saying this has anything to do with your control issues is _ridiculous_. We _both_ know that you didn't want jurisdiction solely because you like being in charge," he reminded her. "I'm sure you'd have glowered in relative silence if the police chief had been competent or responsible. _Obviously_ he wasn't, since he was trying to cover up his own guilt."

"Jane…"

"You like being in charge, Lisbon," he continued. "And you're damn good at it. Years of practice I guess. I'm guessing you wanted authority over the situation so much because you knew that if someone else was in charge this time then things would go _badly_. This wasn't about your control issues, impressive as they are; this was about preventing people from getting _shot._"

By the time he finished, she was staring at him, looking oddly grateful.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"You're one of the least petty people I know, Teresa Lisbon," Jane told her. "I didn't ever think what you did was some sort of ploy solely to exert your own authority over the locals, though I know you do like doing that from time to time too," he added slyly.

She blushed slightly and muttered something about being a woman in law enforcement.

He smirked, and considered pointing out that gender wasn't the only reason she periodically exerted her authority over the less competent, but in the end decided against it.

"Did it ever occur to you that Bertram's little visit clued me into the fact that I was obviously missing something about what happened today?" Jane asked her.

"So of course you needed to figure out what that was," Lisbon said dryly.

"You know I'm curious by nature," Jane reminded her.

"And you know that I like my privacy," Lisbon countered quickly.

He sighed. "So what, we're at a permanent impasse there?"

"Of course not…" she scowled.

"So what then?" Jane wondered. "Why the stubborn refusal to talk about this case?"

"Because I just wanted to go home and forget about the whole stupid thing!" she growled.

"That bothered by a bit of perfectly justifiable manipulation?" Jane asked. "For crying out loud Lisbon, if you hadn't done it a guilty man would have probably walked free, and an innocent one could have been killed!"

"_I know that!"_ she hissed. "I still didn't want to talk about it."

"Didn't want to talk about it, or didn't want to talk about it _with me?_" Jane prodded.

"Who _else_ would I have to talk about it with?" Lisbon shot back.

Jane found himself briefly pleased by the admission, that he was the only one she'd even remotely consider talking to about it. Then other considerations quickly took over, "But even though you've just implied that I'm the most logical choice, you still obviously didn't even consider the possibility of the two of us having a conversation about this?"

Lisbon paused. _Of course_ she hadn't. Like she was going to have a conversation about the benefits and drawbacks of breaking the rules with _Jane_. It was bad enough that he'd heard Crosswhite explain that he didn't care about the consequences of taking a bunch of people hostage because he had answers about his wife's murder.

"I see," Jane said before she could come up with an appropriate response. "Guess that's my answer then."

"Can't we just drop this?" she almost pleaded. She desperately needed time to figure out all of what was going on in her head first, and she was just too tired to do it now.

"I want to talk about it!" Jane said in frustration.

She sighed. "Why is this so damn important?"

"Because it _is!_" Jane insisted.

"Oh, okay then," Lisbon said derisively.

"Because I want to have an actual conversation with you!" Jane hissed finally. "I'm sorry if that's inconvenient for you, Lisbon."

"Oh God," she said whispered in something that sounded close to defeat, as she deflated onto her couch. "I'm… I don't…"

When he saw her obvious display of remorse, a lot of Jane's anger washed away too, and he was left with the tired woman he'd first recognized when he opened the door. "Teresa…" he said gently, sitting across from her.

"I don't want to fight," she said softly. "I just… I really don't know how to talk about this yet," she told him. "It's all a big jumble, that idiotic police chief, the damn mayor with political pull, you being snippy with me all case, Crosswhite and his gun, the cop who tried to take him, having my position handed off, and you again, in that damn city hall. With damn Crosswhite."

"Crosswhite didn't shoot me," Jane reminded her.

"Bet it was a near thing," Lisbon muttered.

"Meh," Jane shrugged. "Not really. I've come far closer."

"I had no way of knowing that," she reminded him.

He had to give her that. "No," he admitted. "And I was not snippy all case."

The fire started to rekindle in her eyes as she sent him a half a glare. "Yes, you were!" she accused.

"When?" he asked.

"How about with the cop who gave you the speeding ticket?" she asked. "And then with his boss? And then when you refused to pay said ticket? Or later in Crosswhite's house when you were so irritating he actually ordered us out? Or when I asked you nicely to try and get Crosswhite to release the injured woman? Basically everything you've said to me all case was snippy!"

"I may have been a little bit stressed out when it came to that last one Lisbon," he justified. "What with having spent the last few hours in a room with a gunman!"

"Oh like I wasn't stressed out!" she shot back.

"That's not what I meant!" Jane growled.

"Okay, fine!" Lisbon told him. "We'll ignore the one about the injured hostage. What about all the other times you were snippy, _before_ you were locked in with Crosswhite?"

He sighed. "I wasn't _snippy_," he assured her. "I may have been a bit _annoyed._ That stupid parking ticket annoyed me."

"I wasn't thrilled about it myself," she admitted. "I knew the case was jinxed the second Rigsby said it might be an easy one. And then barely two minutes later, you arrive with a police escort. But you could have made things easier by just paying the damn ticket."

"It was a ridiculous ticket!" Jane told her. "I was on my way to a crime scene!"

"Jane!"

"And I didn't appreciate you just ordering me to pay it, like I was your little puppy dog," he added.

She stared at him. "I was trying to get Chief Nail to drop the charges against you!" she reminded him. And trying to maintain some sort of authority in an already unfriendly environment, she thought, but didn't say out loud.

"I was taking a moral stand," Jane added. "And I don't like ultimatums."

"You gave me no other choice!" Lisbon exclaimed. "You refused to pay a simple $25 parking ticket. Sometimes we have to make concessions. People do that Jane."

"Eh," Jane said with a wave of his hand. "Did you even consider talking to me about it rather than just ordering me around?" he asked.

"It was a parking ticket! And you _were _speeding! What was I supposed to say? People have to pay those! And I didn't think that talking to you would make any difference. As far as I can tell sometimes a threat is the only way to get you to do anything. I'm sorry if your feelings weren't my first consideration on this case," she growled. "I was a bit busy trying to keep the locals from going on a witch hunt."

"Lisbon…"

"Sometimes it feels like you refuse to obey the law just for the hell of it," she added. "I never have any idea if you have a real reason, or if it's just a big game. Each is equally likely with you."

"You could just _ask_ me," Jane reminded her.

"I can't protect you if you're going to be so stubborn," Lisbon added, apparently ignoring his remark.

He found his annoyance rising. "Again, I would point out that we could have a _reasonable_ discussion, Lisbon."

"Yeah, because you're so good at reasonable," Lisbon told him. "Paying a stupid parking ticket shouldn't even be an issue."

"Yeah, well, the stupid parking ticket was the only reason I was even in the city hall," Jane reminded her without thinking.

She flinched like he'd slapped her.

In a second he was crouching in front of her. "I'm sorry for that, Teresa," he told her sincerely. "That wasn't fair."

She kept her eyes down. "You think I didn't know exactly why you were in that city hall when Crosswhite stormed in wielding a gun?" she asked softly. "You think that didn't occur to me the _second_ I heard he'd taken hostages?"

"No," Jane told her. "I'm sure that was exactly what you thought. That wasn't your fault, Lisbon," he assured her.

"I know that!" she growled, still not looking at him.

"I never blamed _you_ for that," Jane assured her. It was a bit of a lie, but only in a way. At his most petty he had blamed her, but he'd also known wasn't her fault. And when his irritation eventually faded he'd hold her blameless. He knew that, and had no right to hold that over her head (nor did he want to).

"It's just been the most frustrating case!" Lisbon sighed.

"I want to talk to you about your frustrations sometimes, Teresa," he said softly, feeling slightly guilty, (though probably not guilty enough).

"Even if you're the cause of them?" she wondered idly.

"Especially then," he said with a grin.

"I'm not good at that," she told him. "I need time to work things out in my head."

By which point you've censored anything worth telling, Jane thought wryly. Though he supposed he shouldn't blame her for that either.

"And you could have mentioned something to me too, about how annoyed you are," Lisbon pointed out. "Instead of just being snippy."

He supposed he could have, but he hadn't worked it all out by that point.

He took her hand. "We'll both have to practice."

She just sighed and rested her head on his shoulder.

(It was so nice to have someone to lean against, just for a minute.)

He leaned his head against hers. "I really didn't come over here to argue, Teresa," he told her.

"I know," she said. "I'm tired though." Too tired to be as diplomatic as she usually was, and too frustrated with the tangle of emotions she was feeling in the direction of the man in front of her.

He ran a hand down her back. "I know," he admitted. He could have apologized, but the words felt so empty now. He wouldn't mean it entirely, though he was sorry she was tired. Neither of them had gotten what they wanted. He wasn't even sure what that was at the moment.

Still, there was something he could give her.

"I was worried," he told her.

"Hm?" she asked, her question muffled in the space between their bodies.

"When Bertram dropped by your office," Jane clarified. "I hadn't heard a lot of the details of what was going on outside the courthouse, but I figured his visit couldn't mean good news."

She wrapped an arm tentatively around his shoulders. _"Oh,_" she exhaled into his suit.

"Yeah," Jane agreed. "I wanted to talk… I wanted to make sure that…" _That you were alright_, he thought.

"I'm fine," Lisbon told him. "Bertram seemed kind of impressed actually. Although I don't think that was all he was feeling."

Jane smirked and pulled back, moving back to the chair beside her couch. "I'm not surprised. Your powers of manipulation are _impressive_, dear."

"I'm flattered," she said dryly.

"Maybe you should use them more," Jane suggested.

"I think you more than fill the team's manipulation quota," she told him, but she softened the words with a smile.

Jane shrugged good-naturedly and did not point out that for someone so adamant that _he_ obey the law when it came to a silly parking ticket, Lisbon obviously had no problem breaking the rules when necessary.

He knew she'd shut down on him if he did, right before she ordered him out of her living room.

(And even he wasn't so self-serving that he couldn't appreciate the difference in the two situations.)

Besides, she was tired. So was he.

"I'm glad you're not in trouble," he told her instead.

"Yeah," she agreed.

"And hey," he added. "You probably saved my life today," he told her. "The entire time I was in the city hall, I was operating under the assumption that you were in charge. If people had rushed in guns blazing, no way would my plan have worked, and it's almost certain that everyone in the building wouldn't have walked out alive."

Lisbon nodded.

Jane sat in silence, wondering if he should continue.

"I just wish that the politics didn't become such an issue sometimes," she said suddenly. "I mean, my authority shouldn't have ever been an issue on this case. I shouldn't have even had to worry about…"

"No," he agreed. Lisbon was right; her authority shouldn't have been pulled out from under her. But she'd gotten it back. And she'd made him feel badly that he'd been another thing she had little to no control over. Yes, he'd had a valid point in refusing to pay the parking ticket, but then, so had she.

(The degree to which her opinion mattered to him was really beginning to scare him, let alone the degree to which she could provoke a reaction in him. Just who was she manipulating? And was it deliberate?)

"I hate cases like this," she added.

"Do you want me to make you some tea?" Jane offered. "Chamomile. It'll relax you."

"I don't have any chamomile tea," Lisbon told him regretfully.

He smiled. "Yeah you do," he assured her. "I put some in your cupboard months ago."

She laughed.

"I'll make it," he told her. "You find some something on TV you can turn off your brain to."

She looked at him questioningly, surprised at the turn of the conversation.

"We'll talk some other time," he told her. "When you've slept and I've…" he trailed off.

"Relaxed?" Lisbon suggested.

"Something like that," Jane agreed.

"You gonna stay?" she wondered.

He shrugged, surprised and pleased by the offer. "May as well," he said after a glance at the clock on her microwave. "If you don't mind."

He put the kettle on, and walked back over to the living room to wait for it to boil.

Lisbon was flipping through the channels, before settling on a late-night movie. A romantic comedy from the 80s, he was pretty sure.

"I'm not used to having someone to talk to," she whispered, so low he almost didn't hear it.

He glanced sidelong at her, "Me neither."

She nodded almost imperceptibly. "I didn't…"

"I know," he said. "And you weren't completely wrong, about… before."

To his surprise, she smirked. "No kidding."

"I'm not easy Lisbon," he told her.

She frowned slightly. "Neither am I. Nothing ever is."

"We'll work on it," Jane said softly, half to himself.

"We'll try," she corrected just as quietly.

Not long after that Jane stood to check the kettle.

She squeezed his hand when he handed her a cup a few minutes later. He sat down beside her and pretended to be interested in the attempts of the couple on the screen to work out some sort of relationship..

Really he was far more interested in trying to figure out his own relationship with the woman next to him.

And he was still trying to work it hour over an hour later, lying alone on the same couch after Lisbon had gone to bed for the evening.

Jane was willing to admit (at least to himself) that refusing to pay the parking ticket had been his way of rebelling against her. Of trying to test her authority, see how much of a hold she had over him (a hold that _really_ did concern him.)

He wanted to be her equal in this relationship (to the side, not an _underling_).

The fact that she'd sided with the local police chief about the parking ticket had stung. He was so used to having her unilateral support.

He _needed_ her support. He knew he needed her to keep him alive. He was starting to depend on her stability.

And she was strong, but she was also crafty, and capable of bending the rules when she chose.

So how strong was she?

(_Could she save him?_ _Or worse, could she change his mind? He counted on her to save him, but he needed it to be on his own terms._)

He was leaning on her too much. He was too invested in her.

(_He cared too much_.)

He needed to pull back. He'd been saying it for weeks, but now he needed to actually _do _it. He'd gotten in the habit of talking to her about his plans. He'd told her the two of them would work on communicating, but maybe that wasn't the best idea.

Maybe he should take a step back, re-focus.

Look at this as an opportunity.

After all, if Lisbon was willing to defy the rules sometimes, that would work in his favour.

He needed things. He couldn't change that.

He needed to solve the Red John case, catch the murderer, avenge his family. Like Crosswhite, he needed to be able to breathe again.

He needed to know how far she was willing to _help_.

(Maybe he needed _her_ and not just to keep him from getting shot.)

He didn't want to hurt her, or put her in the middle, but he couldn't see how that would be avoided. He was trying to minimize the amount of fallout for her where Red John was concerned.

He needed to know if she would bend too.

And he needed to figure out what kind of relationship they had and what kind of relationship he wanted. They were friends, true. But it was fragile. He needed to know how their friendship would figure into the grand scheme of things, and he needed to sort through all of his Lisbon-related emotion, which was a considerable amount.

(Most of which he shouldn't even have been having.)

He trusted her.

And it always hurt that she didn't trust him.

He wanted her to trust her.

But he didn't want to tell her everything (far from it).

That was the heart of the problem.

Not to mention, he didn't even know how far her feelings went, what she thought. He didn't even know what exactly she knew.

He really needed to know how far she'd go for him though.

How willing she was to manipulate, how willing she was to break the rules.

He just needed to know _more_.

xxxxx

The end

P.S. Guys, while I was in the middle of writing the final argument, Suspicious Minds came up on shuffle. So very amused. Can't even tell you. This series might now have two unofficial songs. (The other one is a secret, at least for the moment.)


	16. Post 314: Fundamental Difference

A/N: Thanks to **yaba **and **forthecoast** for giving this a read-through, and telling me I wasn't nuts. I have issues with this ep, so I had no idea if this chapter even worked when I first wrote it months ago (directly after the ep aired). But, well, it's happening. Because there's no ignoring that ending. Stupid Jane.

I give you fair warning, this one isn't cheerful. (Still in the mid-season angst-bubble.)

xxxxx

Post 3.14: Fundamental Difference of Opinion

xxxxx

"What are you doing here?"

"Can I come in?"

Lisbon sighed and leaned wearily against her doorway. "Why?"

Jane's expression was determined. "I want to come in."

She closed her eyes for the briefest of seconds. "Would it matter what I wanted?" she asked tiredly.

Jane frowned, "Of course."

She laughed derisively, "I doubt that."

That seemed to shock him. "What?"

"Oh come on in," Lisbon said with a wave of her hand. She didn't feel like having this conversation with Jane, but she'd almost certainly have to eventually. "Otherwise you'll probably just wake up the neighbours, throwing a tantrum like a child when you don't get what you want."

"What makes you think that I wouldn't care what you want?" he asked, returning to his earlier question.

Lisbon ignored him again. "I suppose now you want tea," she said turning towards the kitchen.

A flash of pain crossed his face when her back was turned. This was worse than he'd ever expected. "Teresa..." he said desperately.

That broke through the wall. She whirled on him furiously. "_Don't you dare,"_ she hissed.

Jane physically took a step back. "Lisbon," he tried again, holding his hands up defensively.

He watched her deflate. "What are you doing here Jane?" she asked tiredly.

He tried the truth, "I wanted to see you." He'd realized afterwards, that she might not be... exactly alright.

"Did you?" she seemed to find that oddly funny.

"Of course," he tried to assure her. "Why else would I be here?"

She stared at him for a moment. "I honestly have no idea," she said finally.

For a second the air around him seemed to be pressing in on him, weighing him down. "I do drop by from time to time, Lisbon," he said lightly, trying to... well, he didn't even know what he was trying to do anymore.

"Yes you do," Lisbon said evenly.

Jane pressed forward desperately. "In fact, I was here not two days ago," he reminded her with a small smile.

He watched her breathe out slowly, evenly. "That was two days ago," she told him in that same horrible, emotionless voice. "This is today."

So Jane did what he always did when he was desperate for a reaction. He tried confrontation. "You're angry with me."

"_Really?_" she asked sarcastically.

There we go. He shrugged, "I can't see why."

"Yes you can," Lisbon said with an angry shake of her head. "You thought I might be. It's why you're actually here, not your vague-ass reason of wanting to see me."

"I don't see how this is my fault," Jane said, ignoring the pain in his gut. He didn't know what the hell he was doing, but for some reason he couldn't stop. "I certainly didn't force that poor girl to kill her father. If anything he did. And if there's anyone who might understand _that_ Lisbon..."

But that was the last straw. "Stop talking," she ordered savagely.

Her tone stopped him in his tracks. "Lisbon..."

"_No,_" she ordered fiercely. "You stop talking _right now_."

With that Lisbon turned her back on him again, balled her hands into fists and tried to regain her composure. When she refused to speak he tried again with a different angle, although not one designed to compose her.

"Lisbon, if we're going to be friends outside the office I think you'll agree that we'll have to keep our business and our personal lives separate," he said with forced lightness.

His remark certainly got her attention. "You're joking right? Please tell me you're joking."

"Well, you're mad at me," Jane said easily. He'd had lots of practice being flippant. And he could manage it in just about any situation now. It was a blessing and a curse. "I understand. You're mad at me, but I don't see why that means we can't talk about this. What happened earlier was _work,_ solving the case."

"We'd _already_ solved the case," she reminded him darkly.

"Didn't have the right criminal," he countered gently.

"As far as _I_ knew we did," she hissed.

Which was an attitude Jane thought was just plain unreasonable. "Oh, well that's alright then. That's fine. Excellent police work Lisbon. As long as the arresting officer thinks they have the right killer then what's the difference?"

The muted anger in her eyes fired up into cold fury. _"Get out."_

He didn't move a muscle. "I'm just pointing out the flaw in your argument."

"Get out!" she ordered again, as she walked towards him, her voice low and dangerous. "You purposefully made sure I knew!" Lisbon explained, finally venting her frustrations. "You _could_ have gone to hear Trina's confession on your own. You knew what you were going for. You didn't need me. But _no_. _Not the great Patrick Jane._ And not when there was something interesting to be learned. You _deliberately_ brought me. And we both know why. You didn't care about the law, _don't_ care about the law. This was about you and me. Like it always is. You wanted to manipulate me, to bend me to your will. To bring up my past and use it against me. Well _congratulations _Jane! You won this round. Take your prize. _You earned it. _But _don't_ you stand here and lecture me about keeping our personal lives separate from the cases. All of the reasons you brought me along to that damn house were personal! At least have the courage to admit that. And _don't_ pretend any of this has anything to do with you caring about me." Her shoulders were heaving with barely suppressed emotion. She was so upset she missed the look of genuine distress in her partner's eyes.

It probably wouldn't have mattered if she had seen it.

"I thought you'd like to help another girl in a similar..." Jane said softly, his resolution wavering.

"No you didn't!" Lisbon said, slamming her hand down on her table. "If that thought even crossed your mind, phrased that way, then it was near the bottom of reasons for your little scheme."

"How could you possibly..." Jane started to ask.

"Because I _know_ you. And you deliberately brought me into that house. This was about you and me," Lisbon reminded him.

"You could have sent Trina to jail," Jane replied. "She would have understood. She even gave you _permission._"

"Yeah, and you probably coached her to say that," Lisbon accused viciously.

He froze, his guilt surfacing on his face. "Why would I..."

"Because you watch me," Lisbon reminded him. "And you take note of what you see. You knew what that would do to me. So you used that poor girl as a _pawn,_ to help you get exactly what you wanted. She helped you see exactly what you wanted to see. And we _both_ know why."

"I thought we did," Jane admitted slowly. "But now I'm not sure I like what you're accusing me of."

"Oh, stuff your self-righteous tone, _Patrick_," she spat. "We both know in your mind that this was a trial run for Red John."

He stared at her. "You think..." he whispered.

"I _know,_" she corrected. "I've started watching you too, _remember?_ So don't give me any of that crap -about keeping the job and our _'friendship'_ separate. They never were. And you used that today. You used _me._ When you didn't even need to."

"You'd have rather I just kept you blissfully unaware," Jane asked, anger and panic combining to make his course even more unwise than usual.

"Yes," Lisbon confirmed.

"Very well Lisbon," he said coldly. "I'll keep that in mind for next time."

"I don't know why you're so offended Jane," she asked mockingly. "I thought that was your strategy where I'm concerned already, keep me out of the loop, let me have deniability. Why not this time?"

"You tell me you hate it when I do that," Jane said in disbelief, and a little anger. "You _always_ tell me that. Over and over again. _Don't try and help me Jane. Don't protect me. I can handle it," _he mimicked. "Well I played it your way this time. Don't complain if you don't like how it turned out." He shot back.

She sank down in her chair. "You're right," she said sadly. "This is my fault. All my fault. You just did exactly what I asked you to do. Fine. That's fine. Now go."

He stared at her, and he didn't leave. He didn't know what he wanted, what he needed. But he couldn't leave quite yet. "Justice needs to be tempered with mercy Lisbon," he said softly. "Or it should be at least."

"Is that the lesson you were trying to teach me then?" Lisbon asked derisively. "Think I'm not merciful enough? Great. I've got the memo. Now leave."

"Lisbon," he said painfully.

"I'm not some sort of merciless robot Jane," she whispered. "And I'm not law-enforcement girl for you to move around at will."

"I never said you were," he replied.

She met his eyes, and he saw the hurt. "You may as well have," she said in defeat.

"_Shut up!"_ he said forcefully.

That shocked her. "What?"

"No, now it's my turn," he told her. "Don't you _dare_. How could you possibly think..."

"Very easily," she interrupted tiredly.

"You think I don't see _you_, Teresa Lisbon?" he asked angrily. Some days it felt like she was all he saw. That was the problem. "You think that when I look at _you _that I see an interchangeable law enforcement officer."

"No," she said slowly, considering him. "I guess you don't. I guess you see me, flaws, tragic past, all of it. How else could you use it against me when it suits you?"

Now it was his turn to pace around her apartment. "You think I _like_..."

"I don't know what I think right now," she admitted. And that was why they probably shouldn't be having this conversation at all.

He paced across her tiny living room floor once and back one last time. "I didn't mean..." he started to explain.

"Then what the hell did you mean?" she interrupted. "What did you mean to do, other than see how I would react to your little scenario? Did you want to see whether you could bend me to _your_ will? You didn't _need_ me there. If all you cared about was that girl and keeping her out of jail, then _I_ wouldn't have been in that house in the first place. Even if you were pretty sure of what I'd do, that I'd let her walk free, it wouldn't be worth the risk. But you brought me along, _unasked._"

"Yes I did," he admitted.

"Why?"

"Maybe you are wearing off on me," he suggested slowly. It wasn't the only reason, but he liked to believe it was part of it. "Maybe I thought I wasn't qualified to make the decision."

"And I am?" she asked sceptically.

"More so than me at least," he told her. He figured she'd agree with that part of it at least.

But she didn't want to accept his explanation. "Regardless of the consequences?"

"Lisbon..."

"Face it Jane," she interrupted again. Damn it she was mad at him. He didn't get anything from her today. "You don't care about the consequences for anyone but yourself. You don't care that a man is dead. You don't care that Van Pelt will probably have to face an internal inquiry about that. You don't care that I've put my career at risk yet again when my team is already under extreme scrutiny from the PSU. You don't care how what I did makes me feel. And you didn't care enough about that little girl to ensure what you considered to be the best course of action for her."

"I..." He didn't know how to respond to that. Maybe because there was no good answer. There was very little comfort he could give. "No one will find out. There won't be an investigation."

"You sure about that?" she asked.

"Yes," he assured her firmly. He was absolutely positive about that. No one would find out, unless she told them herself.

Lisbon shook her head, "You can't be."

"I won't let it," he explained.

She scoffed, "Sure you won't."

"Trust..."

"_Don't_ finish that sentence," she ordered tiredly. "Not tonight." She'd trusted him with her past, and he'd used it against her. She wouldn't listen to him ask her for that trust again.

And with that, Jane felt the bottom of his stomach drop out. "They won't find out," he assured her desperately. "There won't be professional consequences for you. I promise."

Lisbon almost laughed. "There already are."

"You know what I mean," he said softly.

She shrugged. "I guess I do."

"Good."

They lapsed into silence as he stared at her, still sitting on her sofa.

"Don't you get tired of manipulating people all the time, Jane?" she asked suddenly.

He paused. "Yes."

The honest answer surprised her. "Then why?" she asked curiously.

He shrugged. "You're too good at reading me."

She felt the anger stirring up inside her again. "And this is what, my _punishment_ for that?"

He didn't answer. "You know that I'm dangerous."

"Well, then maybe I should take care not to get too close," she retorted.

"Maybe you should," he said in an attempt at calm.

She paused. Well, if that was the way he wanted to play it... "Okay," she agreed.

That idea terrified him more than he liked. "Okay?" he double-checked.

She almost smiled at the panic in his voice. Good. He deserved it. "Why not?" she taunted.

"Why not, indeed?" he whispered, completely deflated now.

Against her better judgement, Lisbon decided to show just a little pity. "I read you to try to keep you safe. To try and get you to do your job," she reminded him, her voice almost gentle. "You manipulate me in an attempt to make me do the opposite."

"You can be just as manipulative as I can," he growled, his pain showing itself as anger.

"What are you saying?" she asked.

"You've used my wife and daughter," Jane reminded her. "You've used them against me to try and make me talk."

She paused, trying to remember what on earth he was talking about. "_You made me think I was dying,"_ she reminded him, completely scandalized.

"I solved the case," he justified petulantly.

"You were a manipulative bastard," she corrected.

"And you tried to manipulate me right back," he insisted.

She sighed in frustration. "There's really no point in talking to you, is there?"

"So you say, but you're still here," he reminded her. Too late he realized that if he kept on like he was, someday she might really not be. Always too late, always after.

"It's _my_ apartment," she reminded him.

Now it was his turn to ignore her objection. "You also manipulated me into working a case when I didn't want to. You used my daughter against me then. What do you say to that?"

"What did you want me to do?" she asked. "You were being unreasonable! And again, I was making you _do your job._"

"And like I said, maybe I brought you along today so you could do yours." And in his head it had seemed better than going behind her back, than doing it all without her knowing. Yes, he'd manipulated her, and yes, it _had_ been a test. But that hadn't been... all of it.

"I didn't do my job today," she said with an angry shake of her head.

"I gave you the option to," he pointed out. "You were the one who decided it wasn't a good outcome. I agree, by the way."

"Shut up," she snapped. "I really don't care what you think."

"You do think manipulation's alright, but only if the end justifies the means then?" he asked.

"I thought that was _your_ whole philosophy," she shot back.

"And I thought you hated my philosophies," he countered just as quickly.

"I certainly do on days like these," she agreed. "When you're incapable of seeing any kind of a line, let alone staying on one side of it."

He ignored that. "So, does the end justify the means, when it comes to manipulation then, Agent Lisbon?"

"Maybe. Sometimes," she admitted.

He threw up his hands in exasperation. "So then _why..._"

"Because in this case the end was the same either way, wasn't it?" she asked him. "You knew Trina did it almost from the very beginning. Your words. But doing it this way, you got more information. You got to see _me_ react. You got to poke at my buttons. Just like you love to do."

"Yes I do," he agreed.

"Yes you do," she repeated softly.

"You're one of the most interesting people I know," he admitted grudgingly.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, you charmer."

"Manipulating people's part of who I am Lisbon," he reminded her. "I won't apologize."

"I didn't ask you to," she pointed out.

He knew that. But he felt the need to justify himself to her. "It's what I know."

She smiled. Painfully. "You know what I know?"

"No," he said, dread welling up inside him again. This wasn't supposed to go like this. He wasn't sure how it _was_ supposed to go. But it wasn't supposed be this. It wasn't supposed to hurt this much, for either of them.

"I know how to live my life around a dangerous man who claims to care about me," she told him. Her voice low, but he heard every word. He couldn't have looked away if he tried. "I know how to pick up the pieces of other people's disasters. I know how to do damage control. Regardless of the cost to myself. I know how to make bad decisions to protect other people, not myself. I learned those lessons early and they've come in handy all of my life. It looks like they always will."

He let himself fall onto the arm of her chair.

"Tell me I'm wrong," Lisbon whispered.

He didn't think he could. Oh god. He didn't think he could. "Lisbon..."

"_Please_," she almost begged. "Tell me I'm wrong."

He hesitated. "You're not completely right," he offered tentatively.

She closed her eyes. "No, I guess I'm not."

"I always did tell you that you deserved better than me," he reminded her.

"I suppose you did," she said with a half-laugh. "But then _you're_ Patrick Jane. _You're_ always right."

"No I'm not," he told her. He wasn't right today. He absolutely wasn't right.

"You act like you're pretty infallible most of the time," she pointed out. And sometimes it was kind of charming. Other times it was... this.

"Doesn't make me right," Jane explained.

Lisbon smirked in a sad sort of triumph, "Exactly my point."

He knew that now. He always had. But he still wasn't sure what he'd have done differently. And he hated himself for that. Far more than she ever could.

"Are we still friends?" he asked tentatively.

She hesitated. "Ask me tomorrow. I can't answer that right now."

He nodded briefly, clinging to that tiny shred of hope like a life raft. "Okay," he said as he turned towards the door. He knew she wanted him to go. She probably wished he'd never come.

Although his question brought up an interesting point for Lisbon. "I thought you wanted me to trust you," she asked in confusion. And if he'd ever meant that then how on earth could he have used her like this? She'd told him about her father, told him about her brothers a year ago and then he'd gone and...

He spun back around.

She was staring at the wall.

"I do," he assured her.

"Then why?" she asked hollowly. Because god help her, she needed to know.

"If I'd kept it from you, how would that build trust?" Jane said tentatively. "I'm... trying."

"Are you?" she asked, hating herself for the trace of hope she could hear in her own voice.

Jane heard it too, and he pounced, pressing the hint of an advantage. "I wanted to keep you involved, give you options."

She shook her head quickly. "You knew from the beginning. You waited until you had leverage, the _right_ leverage."

He couldn't deny that. "We did catch a dirty cop," he reminded her. "We caught a bad guy."

"We didn't _catch him_, we killed him," she corrected.

"Technically Van Pelt did. And that was hardly my fault." How was he supposed to know their witness would be that hostile? He couldn't predict _everything_.

"Lucky break for you though, wasn't it?" Lisbon asked derisively. "Otherwise he might have talked. And then the rest of your little plan wouldn't have worked."

"He wouldn't have talked," Jane said. He was fairly certain of that. "Couldn't admit he didn't get the hit, remember? It would have gotten back to Essex. Besides, if he had lived, the whole situation could have gone down completely differently. If he'd talked, he'd have probably done it _before_ Trina remembered."

Which would have destroyed Jane's plan. Lisbon sighed. The Witness Protection agent's death had been what made Jane's whole scheme possible. You couldn't prosecute a dead man for a crime he hadn't committed. And if he was the assumed killer, there was no need to look for anyone else. It was almost perfect. For Jane at least. "Doesn't mean he deserved to die," Lisbon said softly, after a moment.

"He was going to shoot you!" Jane snapped. "I say good for Grace!"

"Oh, yeah, great. She killed someone. Good for her," Lisbon said scathingly. She'd seen Grace's face afterwards, all vengeance, no justice. It hadn't been comforting.

"He was a dirty cop," Jane argued. "I thought that was a horrible thing in law enforcement's eyes."

"Doesn't make vigilantism okay," Lisbon said, obviously stressed. "Have you learned nothing by the PSU breathing down all of our necks lately?"

"Okay, then forget about him," Jane said, realizing he wouldn't win this one. "We also let a good girl stay out of jail."

"The system would have done that too," Lisbon countered.

"Eventually. If it was doing its job," Jane agreed. But who knows what would have happened in the meantime."

"The system does its job," Lisbon insisted stubbornly.

"Sometimes," Jane agreed with a noncommittal shrug.

Lisbon dropped her head and laughed, that desperate laugh that he hated so much.

"You did the right thing Lisbon," he assured her desperately.

"I don't think so," she said with a shake of her head.

"Then why did you do it?" he wondered.

"I don't know," Lisbon said softly.

"Yes you do," Jane insisted.

"Even if I did," she said slowly. "I wouldn't tell you right now. You don't deserve to know. You don't deserve to know anything right now."

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

"I don't think you are," she shook her head.

He sighed. Of course she didn't. "I'm sorry you're upset."

"Yeah, I guess that is probably true," she admitted. "Well great, Jane. Everything's fine then."

"Of course it isn't. I was proud of you today," he added tentatively. "When you let that girl go. I was proud of you for making that decision. For giving her a second chance at a normal life."

But Lisbon disagreed, "You were proud of me because I caved to what you think was the right decision. Whether it actually was or not is irrelevant to you."

"Who makes these so-called 'right decisions' then?" Jane asked in complete frustration.

"I don't know," she said helplessly. "_More than one person_. A jury of our peers. Twelve people. And a judge. _After_ due process."

Now it was his turn to laugh humourlessly. "Those aren't _right_ decisions, those are _legal_ decisions."

"Who says those can't be the same thing?" she demanded.

"You are so ridiculously idealistic," Jane he told her.

"Obviously not." Her statement hung in the air as she continued. "Maybe legal's the best we've got."

"And sometimes..." Jane started to explain.

"Sometimes what?" Lisbon interrupted. She was so sick of justifying the legal system to him. It made his job all the more ridiculous. "Sometimes one person needs to take a stand? Do what they think is right? What's _best_?"

"Maybe," Jane agreed. "What would be so wrong with that?"

"Having one person make decisions about life or death?" Lisbon asked. Even _he _couldn't possibly be that stupid. "Based on their own values? Their own baggage? Like I did today?"

"It was a good decision," Jane assured her.

"And it went against almost everything I believe in," Lisbon told him harshly. "Besides, I'm sure that each time he kills and mutilates another woman, Red John thinks that's a good decision too. There's a reason the legal system has rules and regulations. And more than one person involved."

"That's not fair," Jane said angrily.

"You don't care about fairness," Lisbon replied. And that made it hard for her to care about fairness when she had to deal with him. "That much has always been clear."

"Lisbon..." he floundered.

"It's alright Jane. I know you can't help it," she assured him. "It's who you are. We all have to make our own choices. Heaven knows I made mine. And I'll live with it. Somehow. I always do. I just thought... I don't know what I thought. And it doesn't matter."

"Yes it does," he assured her desperately. "Why wouldn't it matter?"

"I just thought that you meant it when you told me that I wasn't another one of your marks," she said sadly.

"You're not," he tried to assure her.

"Obviously that's not true," she whispered.

"You know how I feel about Red John," Jane reminded her. "Red John is off limits, Lisbon."

She chuckled softly to herself. "Funny," she said gently. "That's exactly how I feel about my past, about my _family_. You didn't seem to care about that today. Didn't care what you were using against me, or what you were dredging up." And god it hurt.

He took a step before her.

She turned her back to him.

"Now please leave," she told him hollowly.

He stared at her, obviously torn. "Okay."

He paused by the door. "But Teresa?"

"What?" she asked.

He paused. "I did want to see you tonight."

She closed her eyes sadly. "I know," she admitted.

"See you tomorrow," he whispered as he quietly shut the door behind him.

"Yeah," Lisbon whispered to the empty room.

She did know he'd wanted to see her. And that somehow made it all worse.

She bit her lip to prevent herself from crying. She would not cry on top of it all.

Instead, she would quite sensibly go to bed. And not think about the shambles her life had become.

So she did.

She went through her night time routine as usual. Only pausing once to beat the crap out of an uncooperative, almost-empty tube of moisturizer.

Finally she crawled into bed.

Alone.

To stare at her ceiling all night.

xx

A few hours later, Jane was turning in for the night. But sleep was eluding him as well, as it so often did.

His brain was running through the day, on an endless loop, always ending on Lisbon's face.

He'd set her up on a test and she'd passed with flying colours. But he felt like he'd failed. (He'd failed _her_.)

He certainly hadn't been acting like a friend.

Maybe that was the problem, he realized, staring up at a perfectly white ceiling.

He didn't _want_ to be her friend. That wasn't what he wanted from her _at all._

And that fact taunted him. Because he had no idea what to do about it. Maybe there was nothing he _could_ do about it.

(He'd seen her face when she'd ordered him out of her apartment –_her face_. She may have finally made the smart decision and decided any kind of non-professional relationship with him wasn't worth it.)

So he was stuck sitting on his bed, head in his hands, _alone_, in a bedroom that had never felt like home.

There wasn't a red smiley face painted on _these_ walls, but there may as well have been.

Because he'd always be living in the shadow of his past mistakes, only realizing where he'd gone wrong when it was too late.

xxxxx

The End

TAG goes up tomorrow (probably).


	17. TAG: Nine Minutes

Here it is. The tag to the hateful episode. I hope you guys enjoy it.

xxxxx

3.14 TAG: Nine minutes

xxxxx

Patrick Jane had made a mistake.

He knew that now.

He wasn't sure he regretted it. Actually that wasn't true; he regretted the effects of his mistake, but he had also definitely learned something valuable from the experience.

Teresa Lisbon would protect the people around her unconditionally, even if it destroyed her.

The idea didn't make him as happy as it should have.

Oh, part of him was thrilled that her principles weren't nearly as firm as she tried to portray. It opened up a wide variety of possibilities where he was concerned.

But that same fact also caused worry to bubble up in the bottom of his stomach.

Because it meant that in a crisis Lisbon wouldn't be looking out for herself at all. That made Jane nervous since he was determined to do his best to protect her. She might be inclined to throw herself in the fire for him, but part of him was equally determined not to let her.

He couldn't allow her to be taken down by his issues.

The idea was abhorrent (_but not unlikely)._

Which brought him back to his mistake.

Lisbon was angry at him. No, she wasn't angry. It was worse; she was _hurt_. He'd _hurt_ her.

Her.

He'd gotten it into his head that she didn't support him as much as she should (thanks, he realized now, mostly to his own insecurities and issues where their relationship was concerned). So he'd taken it into his head to test her.

Well, now he had the results.

Lisbon would protect the people she cared for, whatever the cost.

Always at the expense of herself.

Now it was Jane's turn to pay.

He'd dealt a significant blow to their friendship… to their _relationship_.

And he needed to fix it.

Because he wouldn't give her up. He _wouldn't_.

(She was too important.)

He was still turned around and torn up (and _terrified_) about Red John, but one thing Jane's little test had hammered home was how much he really _liked _Lisbon (_cared_ about her). His Lisbon, who maybe wasn't his anymore.

But he needed her, for protection (and maybe other things).

He was only just realizing that she might need _him_ to protect her in return, even if only from himself.

That wasn't the issue right now though. The issue was how to _fix it_. Or at least, how to open the lines of communication again. Jane wasn't going to let Lisbon shove the problem down, ignore it completely, pretend it didn't exist or that they were fine. That was what they always did.

And it didn't really work.

Jane had thought that the solution to the conflict was to pull back, stop confiding in her, keep his distance (and hopefully keep _her_ safe).

He was wondering now if he had that backwards.

If talking to her a little bit _more_ might be the key. It was worth thinking about at least.

First he needed to get their friendship back on solid ground, build on what already existed, or had existed.

Which meant he needed to come up with an idea of how to do that. _Now._ No putting it off. Not even a day.

(He wouldn't let the wound fester.)

He needed to sort out how important she was, and how to balance it with… everything else. But for now he just needed her to know that she _was_ important, and that he was sorry for hurting her.

Otherwise she'd keep thinking that she was just something he used on a daily basis.

She'd think that she was just like everyone else.

xxxxx

Lisbon walked into her office at noon with a cup of coffee (she couldn't quite deal with tea right now), thankful that she'd taken the morning off. She'd probably be working late anyways, so she'd given herself the morning. She'd needed the time alone.

The truth was, she hadn't _wanted_ to come in at all. Didn't want to have to deal with Jane right away.

Oh, she was sure neither of them would have any trouble being professional. Actually, they'd probably do even better than that. They'd have no trouble pretending to be cheerful with each other, friendly even. After all, they probably wouldn't be in each other's company much. He'd just hide up in his attic out of sight, and she'd hole up in her office, and they'd pretend everything was fine.

They'd fool everybody but themselves, maybe _even_ themselves eventually.

And she'd accept that, because she had to.

She always had to.

But secretly she'd the hurt would still sting. Because he had hurt her, even though she understood _why _(and part of her_ hated_ that she understood and didn't even blame him for it).

It didn't heal the wound. Because she'd genuinely thought she mattered.

Not that she didn't. She probably _did. _Just not… not in the way she'd thought. (Not in the way she'd _hoped_.)

(_They'd never been serious. Never been serious. Never been serious._)

(But she'd still thought they _were_ _friends_.)

Maybe she'd wanted… but… She didn't even know anymore, really. She never seemed to know anything with Jane.

God. It was all so complicated.

Lisbon dropped into her desk chair.

That was when she noticed the letter on her desk.

It was from him. Of course it was from him. She'd known that before even opening it.

After all, who else would it be from?

_Dear Teresa,_

_I'm writing you a letter because there are things I need to say to you and I'm not entirely sure you'll listen to them in person. Not without slamming the door in my face (which I wouldn't blame you if you did, so please don't scowl at me). I thought I'd have a better chance of getting it out in a letter._

_You were right of course, about Trina. I manipulated you. We both know it. There's not much I can say about it. I'm not sorry that you didn't report her. I am sorry that it caused you pain. I don't know if I'd change things. It wasn't only about the manipulation though. You can hate me if you want to. But I'm telling you the truth._

_You always want me to tell you the truth. That isn't a justification by the way, Teresa. It's a statement of fact, and what I'm hoping will become the beginning of an argument persuasive enough to make you not hate me anymore. I'm not good at telling the truth. I am trying to be better. I think I'd like to tell you things. Not everything, all the time if I'm being honest (and I am trying to be honest), but some things. I think part of me was using Trina to see what would happen if I did confide in you._

_I know that it wasn't fair to you, or to her._

_I know I made a mistake._

_I know I hurt you._

_But surely, like anything else, truth-telling is a learning process? I know we'll come to blows over it more than once. I'm not easy, but neither are you, Teresa. I'd still like to try, if you're willing. (I'll definitely need your patience if you are.)_

_Because I'm not entirely used to having another person to talk to either._

_Your friend,_

_-Jane_

Lisbon stared at the paper in her hands.

It was a well-written letter. And she was sure Jane knew it. She was absolutely positive that Jane knew exactly what this letter would do to her, what it would make her feel.

He was so good at playing off people's emotions.

Lisbon stood quickly, walked over to her door and flipped the lock.

Then she curled up on her couch (the one _he'd_ bought her), with her also-newly-purchased, and probably ridiculously expensive, throw around her shoulders.

She'd give herself ten minutes.

Ten minutes to hurt.

Ten minutes to decide if she believed him.

It would have all been so much easier if she hadn't wanted him to be serious. Patrick Jane had been the most serious thing in her life for a while now. She'd like it if he felt the same way.

(Though part of her was afraid to face up to exactly what that meant. It was all so much easier when Jane as a jerk, too unstable to even consider a relationship with. Because when he was sincere… and _trying… _That was where the danger lay.)

Maybe she did matter. If his letter was to be believed.

Which she still wasn't sure about.

Lisbon brushed a tear from her cheek.

It might hurt too much to believe it.

Nine minutes left to decide.

xxxxx

That afternoon Jane found a new box of his favourite tea wedged in between his couch cushions.

And before the evening was through, there was a pint of strawberries in Lisbon's bottom right desk drawer.

When she walked tentatively into the attic late that evening and silently pulled out the checkerboard, Jane was almost floored by his overwhelming sense of relief.

It was so discombobulating that he found himself pulling her tentatively against him, trying to hold her loosely so as not to scare her away, but absolutely shocked when he realized how tightly his fingers were holding onto her jacket.

And completely flabbergasted by the fact that she was clutching him just as tightly back.

xxxxxx

The end

The next couple probably aren't going to go up as quickly as these last few have. Just so you know.

And yes, I realize the letter was a cliché, but there was no way of having that conversation argument-free in person.


	18. Post 315: Recovery

Hi guys. I know it's been a long time since I updated this. Even longer than I was expecting actually. It's just that, well, to put it bluntly, the finale kind of temporarily killed my muse for this series. I had an ending planned for the S3 finale before it aired, which would have worked with pretty much anything. It did not work, does not work, with what did happen. As a result, I threw a bit of a mental temper-tantrum about that. I've come to terms now. Anyway, the current plan is to continue the series on as originally planned until about 3.22, then figure something out with the finale after the premiere has aired, and continue for an indefinite period into the fourth season. Unless the premiere is somehow hateful. Then I will end this AU at 3.22, something I'm seriously disinclined to do. But we shall see.

Anyway, after that lengthy explanation all I can say is that I hope you enjoy the delayed post-ep.

Also, in this I reference Jane as having an apartment. I know he lives in a hotel room, but I started this series long before we knew that, and I'm not changing where he lives now.

xxxxx

Post 3.15: Recovery

xx

_Recovery: Improvement. The act of regaining health; the process of returning to normal; the act of regaining possession_

xx

Lisbon was doing paperwork on her couch again.

Not because the new couch was perfect for snuggling into, oh no, not that, couldn't possibly be that. After all, it was just a _couch,_ just a silly piece of furniture. She really shouldn't be doing paperwork on it at all. It looked so unprofessional, a fact which Jane acted as daily proof of. It was more responsible, sensible to work at her desk where her laptop and phone were close at hand if something came up.

But it was late, there was barely anyone around anymore. And she'd had her ankle propped up on hard angular surfaces all day (her desk, the table in the observation room, the spare desk in the bullpen...). She was tired of sharp and unyielding. Her ankle was throbbing. Propping it up on an overstuffed pillow was so much more comfortable. God knows how long it would take to heal. She just needed to rest it on something soft for a while, at least until she had to sort out the problem of how on earth she was going to get home for the night. Even Lisbon wasn't stubborn enough to think that she could drive herself. 

She scowled.

Damn Jane and his little prank.

Lisbon decided this was all his fault.

He'd been positively loopy all case, what little of him she'd seen of him at least. Before she was exiled to the CBI building like an invalid (she scowled again). He'd been bounding about the mountains raving about natural beauty, grinning and taking exaggerated deep breaths like some sort of harmless lunatic. (If Jane _was_ a lunatic, he wasn't harmless.) Lisbon had been grudgingly amused. She was often grudgingly amused where he was concerned.

But she really couldn't help it this time.

Things had been so different from their tentativeness after the Trina incident. After their fight.

They felt somehow right again.

For the first case since then things had felt somehow normal. She'd missed him.

Then she'd sprained her damn ankle. Or rather Jane had gotten it sprained for her.

And he'd gone off on his own. With Hightower.

Oh, mostly she didn't care about any of it really. From a practical perspective, she didn't mind at _all._

But she may have missed his stupid games. Given his mood, Lisbon seriously doubted that Jane had stopped acting like a drugged squirrel, scampering around chatting to people just because she happened to have an ice pack on her ankle.

He'd almost certainly aggravated half the town.

There'd been a certain amount of relief in all that being Hightower's problem for the day. Hightower could experience firsthand her golden boy's methods.

Still, it scared Lisbon (slightly) just how much she'd resented the other woman's interference.

Which was ridiculous. Madeleine wasn't a threat to her. The boss had probably just jumped on the opportunity to get away from her office and the frustrations of her job and her life in general for a day. And at the same time she'd stepped in to fill an unexpected gap. Apparently Hightower hadn't trusted Cho with Jane, something Lisbon didn't blame her for.

No, Lisbon wasn't jealous of Madeleine Hightower.

The woman was having a terrible time personally; that much was obvious. And Lisbon had genuinely loved looking after her kids. Who wouldn't? They were adorable. Lisbon had also been glad to help out, pick up the slack. They were all on the same team after all.

And then later, after the unexpected (but not entirely unwanted hug), Lisbon had felt an understanding for her boss that she hadn't felt before. Because it turned out Madeleine Hightower was human like the rest of them.

Lisbon had still felt a little useless though, a little left out from the rest of the team, all of whom were rushing around like busy little bees in the pursuit of justice. Well, justice and whatever Jane was in it for.

Especially since t was a bit of a production for her to even walk to the interrogation rooms. She wasn't all that steady on the crutches yet.

It was irritating to see her place so (apparently) easily filled.

And Jane hadn't exactly helped matters there.

Oh, she knew he'd been teasing earlier when she'd been fishing for gossip about working with Hightower. She _had_ been fishing for gossip after all; it had been very little else. She'd wanted Jane's opinion of the boss. It wasn't often Lisbon could enjoy that sort of thing, chatting with a colleague. She was supposed to discourage gossip in her team, since she was technically an authority figure. But Lisbon hadn't been the authority figure today. She'd felt strangely conspiratorial with Jane. She'd wanted him to tell her something, to share something, preferably something interesting.

And he'd known it.

He hadn't risen to the bait, as he so often refused to do.

He'd told her how wonderful working with Hightower had been. A lovely change by his account.

Jane had always been a bit fascinated, a bit intrigued by Hightower. He always liked to pester authority figures, especially when they resented it.

Lisbon knew that from personal experience. She was sure Madeleine did too.

Jane was a nuisance like that. Then, to add insult to injury, he'd accused her of being jealous.

She was _not _jealous. (Though she supposed it did say something about their relationship, that he could tease her like that now without it being awkward.)

Jealousy would be _silly_. Hightower had been helping out for _one_ case.

Jane was just messing with her. Bastard. He'd deserved the whack of her crutch against his shin. She should have hit him twice.

Maybe even three times.

She wasn't jealous.

But she had been looking for something, some sort of acknowledgement or... just something.

He'd been so carefree earlier, so very _Jane._ And she'd missed it stuck in her office. All alone for half the day, Lisbon had been forced to admit how much she'd missed _him._

He was inconsiderate and unthinking, careless especially when it came to consequences, immature, dangerous, fixated and obsessed, but he was fun. Interesting. Enthusiastic, sometimes almost innocent.

And he was hers. Or he was supposed to be. He was supposed to be _her _consultant. Not Madeleine's. She, Teresa Lisbon, was the one who watched after him.

God. Had she become one of those women? Laying claim? She didn't have the right to do that. Not really. Boundaries still existed, thank heaven. (Although, professionally, he _was_ on _her_ team.)

And she missed him when he wasn't around.

All she'd wanted was some kind of admission that maybe he'd missed her to. Just a little bit.

But it wasn't to be.

Jane would rather play games, revel in his superiority, in the fact that he knew what she was after. Sometimes she liked it, sometimes she didn't.

But it was Jane.

Still, hearing that Hightower was dynamic and wonderful to work with, fun and intense (all adjectives Jane had never once applied to Lisbon herself), had shattered her little illusion of shared gossip with a friend over the water cooler, or over a cup of tea in their particular case.

Lisbon knew she was being silly, but she couldn't help it.

He'd almost gotten shot again too. By Madeleine Hightower of all people. Yet Madeleine was _wonderful_ to work with.

Lisbon sighed softly and went back to the file in her hand, hoping for a distraction in it.

It very nearly worked.

At least until a knock on her door provided a more genuine distraction.

She looked up, unsurprised (yet pleased) to see Jane standing there.

"Hey," she said as she gestured him in with a tilt of her head. "I didn't know you were still here."

"I am," he assured her.

"I can see that," she replied dryly.

"As are you," Jane added.

Lisbon looked unimpressed. "Well spotted."

Her sarcasm didn't faze him for even a second. ""One might ask why," he told her. "After all, there can't have been that much paperwork for _you_ to do, what with Madeleine stepping in. And I have it on good authority that you've been searching for something to keep you occupied all day, at least you were until Madeleine's kids showed up."

"Jane..."

"Which leads me to wonder what could possibly be keeping you here now," he concluded.

She shrugged. "I dunno," she told him. "Maybe I figured I should just get some of this paperwork finished up."

Jane raised his eyebrows.

"Why not?" Lisbon asked. "Nothing better to do."

Jane sighed. "That's it. I'm taking you home."

"_What?_" Lisbon asked, torn somewhere between relief, amusement, and irritation.

"You don't need to be here anymore Lisbon," Jane assured her. "Even you know it."

"But what about my car?" she wondered.

Jane shook his head. "You know very well that you're in no state to drive. You can leave it in the parking lot and I'll pick you up tomorrow morning and drive you in. Now stop being stubborn."

"Oh, just as easy as all that?" Lisbon asked.

"Yup," Jane told her.

She stood up with an affected gruffness. After all, it was an ideal solution. "Fine."

"Good girl," Jane murmured, watching her settle onto her crutches, and knowing better than to press his luck by offering to help her.

He waited patiently as she gathered up her things, but did insist on carrying her bags.

"You're unstable enough on those crutches as it is, Lisbon," he assured her. "Could you just this once let me help you, for both our sakes?"

"I'm perfectly fine on these crutches," Lisbon assured him, standing on her dignity.

Jane disagreed, "I heard you very nearly toppled over when you tried to walk and talk on the phone at the same time."

"Hearsay," Lisbon replied succinctly.

"Uh huh."

Lisbon decided a change of the subject was in order. "Speaking of which, _I_ heard that Hightower almost shot you today."

"I'm fine," Jane assured her quickly.

"Jane…"

"How are _you?_" he interrupted, watching her teeter about slightly unsteadily on her crutches. The crutches that she was only using because he'd thought it would be funny to yell 'gold' in the middle of a crowd of fanatics in search of a fortune. It'd been meant as a joke, something they could laugh over later. But then shed' gotten hurt. He figured the least he could do was get her home safely.

Lisbon looked confused at the question. "I'm fine," she told him. "Had the medic look at it. It's just a mild sprain."

"I'm sorry," he told her.

She shrugged. "It's fine," she repeated. "It'll heal."

"Let me drive you home Teresa," he all but pleaded.

"I was going to," she assured him.

"Good."

Jane led her to the elevator. "Heard you were a hit with Madeleine's kids."

Lisbon flushed prettily. "They're adorable," she said, evading an answer.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," he said gently. He could imagine it, Ms. Lisbon taking charge, directing her two little charges with a mixture of authority and affection. The rush of emotion for the woman next to him wasn't unexpected.

"Made me miss my brothers," she admitted before she'd realized what she'd said.

To her surprise Jane just rested a hand on the small of her back. "I didn't mean for you to get hurt today," he all but whispered, ushering her into the elevator.

"I know," Lisbon acknowledged, just as quietly.

She did know. She found that she wasn't even a little bit annoyed with him about her ankle anymore. She knew it hadn't been deliberate. And she'd had time to think all day at the office, even with Hightower's kids bouncing around. Lisbon knew absolutely everything was a risk with Jane. Jane was all risks. That's just who he was. But somehow that'd become a part of her life. She wondered if maybe she'd simply gotten used to it.

Jane would get in trouble in the most innocuous of situations.

It was an odd kind of certainty.

And as she glanced at the man standing next to her in the elevator, Lisbon admitted it was one she kind of liked.

Jane glanced over at her. "I don't suppose you've eaten," he said conversationally.

She smirked. "It's after nine."

"Like that means anything with your eating habits," Jane pointed out. "You almost certainly fed Madeleine's children, but the question is, did you feed yourself?"

"I had some French fries," Lisbon defended.

Jane shook his head. "I'll call and order Chinese. We can pick it up on the way."

xxxxx

Jane smiled to himself as he drove Lisbon to her apartment.

She was already half-asleep against the passenger window. Stubborn woman, still trying to be a superhero even with an ankle out of commission.

He was glad she'd come with him willingly after what was really only a token protest. Even if her compliance meant she genuinely _was_ hurt, so much that even she knew it. Lisbon'd probably been wondering how she'd get herself home all evening. Not that it had occurred to her to ask him (or anyone else) for a ride. Not his self-sufficient Teresa.

She had to know that he'd have driven her home in a heartbeat.

She did know that.

At least he hoped she did.

Jane sighed internally. He supposed he should be grateful that she was still speaking to him at all after their last big argument, that she still wanted to be friends.

He didn't want to lose her.

She was important. Not that he'd told her that. If anything he'd done the opposite earlier today.

But with good reason.

If he didn't acknowledge that she mattered, if he treated it all as a joke then there was nothing to threaten. Nothing to lose. Besides, he'd been keeping things light all day, trying to push their fight behind them.

Unfortunately that attitude rather contradicted the shot of pure pleasure he'd experienced upon realizing that Lisbon had been a bit jealous that he'd partnered with another woman. He'd asked the question to tease, nothing more. But her reaction had given her away. Yes, she was annoyed with him for being a jerk about everything, but she was also jealous. At least a little.

He was just glad he hadn't seen his triumphant grin, for several reasons, not the least of which was that Lisbon hit damn hard.

It was probably only professional jealousy anyway. Nothing to get too excited over.

Still, he liked that she was jealous.

Part of him wished that she'd been more so.

Jane was perfectly willing to admit (at least to himself), that if another male law enforcement officer had tried to take _his_ place by her side, that he would have thrown a bit of a fit.

Lisbon hadn't done that.

Though she _had_ sought him out.

Jane had spent longer than he wanted to admit in his attic, trying to figure out what that meant.

And wondering why he'd been so stupid as to dismiss her attempt to share something with him.

Well, he was going to be there for her now. Whether she liked it or not. Jane thought about his little dilemma. If Lisbon thought he was driving her home to look after _her_, she'd get self-conscious and probably toss him out on his ear.

Obviously things would require a little more finesse than that.

Luckily he was more than equal to the task of getting around her.

Jane pulled up in front of her building and gently shook her shoulder. "Wake up sleepy-head," he said softly. "We're here."

xxxxx

Lisbon graciously let Jane carry her things inside. Her arms were starting to hurt a little bit from the crutches anyway, and she was too tired to argue with him at the moment. Besides, he'd already told her he wasn't going to just toss her out on the street with her crutches, so further objection seemed pointless.

"Why don't you get settled on your couch and I'll get the food out," Jane suggested hesitantly, wondering how far he could push his luck with her.

Lisbon paused, "I can..."

She felt his arm wrapping around her. "I know," he admitted. "But let me do it."

"Jane…" she said tentatively.

Lisbon felt his arm her tighten around her waist as he pulled her against him. She felt her head fall against his shoulder before she could stop it.

"I want to," he whispered. "I know your ankle has to be hurting you."

"It's not that bad," she murmured, letting herself lean against him. This felt nice. Being this close to him was nice.

"You're a better partner than Hightower," Jane whispered.

"What…" Lisbon sputtered, her heart skittering slightly.

"And you're better than Cho, and Rigsby, and Grace," he continued, absently rubbing circles on the small of her back.

She turned away from him, not wanting him to see her eyes. "Jane…"

"I'm sorry you got hurt," he told her a third time.

"And I'm sorry you got shot at. Again," she returned. Why was he always getting shot at? Lisbon could understand the desire well enough, she supposed. But even considering how annoying and reckless he was, Jane still got physically threatened a surprising amount. She particularly hated that about him. It was worrying. Especially since now it was people supposedly on his side shooting at him.

"Meh. Doesn't matter," Jane assured her, brushing off her concern. He hadn't particularly enjoyed the experience, but Madeleine had been frustrated and angry. He'd just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and everything had worked out in the end. He hoped firing a gun at him had been therapeutic for her. Madeleine needed to work through her frustrations somehow. Everybody did. He was more interested in Lisbon right now anyway.

"It does," Lisbon insisted. How could he think it didn't matter if he got shot at?

Jane smiled in spite of himself, "I'm fine."

"So'm I," she replied with a small grin of her own.

"Well, I hope you get better soon because I'd rather not have to partner with Madeleine again," Jane said playfully.

"_Oh really?_" Lisbon asked with a smirk.

Jane shrugged. "She can be a bit scary sometimes."

Lisbon chuckled. "That's not what you said earlier," she reminded him dryly.

"Oh, she has her good points too," Jane acknowledged cheekily.

"Most people do," Lisbon said, pulling back slightly.

"There's still no need to be jealous, dear," Jane assured her.

"What?" Lisbon asked in shock. The _nerve _of the man. She'd give him a piece of her mind. "I _told you_, _I..."_

"Madeleine's no threat to you," Jane interrupted blithely. "It was only one case anyway."

"I know that. And I am _not_ jealous," Lisbon said forcefully.

"Course not," Jane agreed.

"I'm not," Lisbon insisted, swatting him in the arm. "Don't be so ridiculous. I asked you a perfectly normal question out of pure curiosity, and then you had to go and turn it all around like an idiot."

"Fine," Jane agreed. "You're not jealous." Except that she _was_, and it was lovely.

"Glad that's settled," Lisbon muttered.

"But if you _were_," Jane continued. "Which would be human nature after all. I just wanted to let you know that you have no reason to be."

"Hmph," Lisbon growled.

"Madeleine was interesting as a novelty," Jane added, whispering into her ear. "But you're still my favourite. In spite of your control issues and your stubbornness."

"You can be a really jerk sometimes, you know that?" Lisbon asked.

"And you hit hard," Jane said petulantly.

"You deserved it," Lisbon murmured, settling back against his shoulder. Just for another few seconds.

"I suppose I did," Jane agreed softly as he tightened his hold on her in response. Teasing her was fun, but there was something to be said for being allowed to hold her after a long day.

Lisbon smiled and let herself enjoy the embrace. Trying to forget about their last case, and what exactly she meant to him, and what he might use her for tomorrow.

Because he was still here.

After a moment, Jane let her go. But as he pulled away Lisbon swore she felt him brush his lips against her hair.

She froze.

"I thought your war wound might need someone to kiss it better," Jane explained.

"My…" Lisbon repeated, her mouth suddenly dry.

"Your ankle is too far away," he explained softly.

"Ah." She looked up, saw his blue eyes staring at her. And all at once he was much, much too close.

She watched him swallow, saw his eyes widen. And felt him drop his hand from around her and take a step back.

"Guess I should get that Chinese food," he said, running a hand through his hair.

"Yeah," she agreed. "I'll just lie out on the couch. It'll be better for my ankle."

"Okay," he agreed, smiling quickly.

Lisbon got herself set up on her couch. She winced as she put a pillow under her ankle.

Of course Jane noticed. "Have you taken anything for that?" he asked, setting the Chinese food down in front of her.

"I'm fine," Lisbon said reflexively.

He raised an eyebrow at her.

She sighed. "I think there's some extra strength Tylenol in the bathroom."

He smirked when she wasn't looking. "You need anything else while I'm up?" he asked.

Lisbon shook her head to say no. Then something occurred to her. "Jane?" she called tentatively.

"Yes dear?"

"Will you make me some tea?" she asked softly.

"I already put the kettle on," he promised.

Lisbon closed her eyes. _ Of course he had._ It was hard not to feel at a disadvantage with Jane sometimes. Still, today she supposed she didn't really mind. Not if he was going to fetch her things at least. "Thanks," she said when he handed her a couple of pills and a glass of water.

"Of course," he shrugged.

"Still..." she said, ready to assure him she could have done it herself.

"Just eat your Chinese food," he told her awkwardly.

Lisbon smirked, turning to her carton.

"So," Jane said cheerfully after a minute. "I heard you had Rigsby reading bedtime stories."

Lisbon chuckled, "That was his own fault."

"So he was teasing you," Jane guessed.

"Maybe," Lisbon said quickly.

"Bit of an abuse of power, wouldn't you say?" Jane wondered.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Lisbon replied.

Jane smirked. "I'm glad you managed to find something good about your day."

"Yeah," Lisbon agreed. "Even if I wasn't running around searching for gold, like _some people_."

"What can I say?" Jane asked. "There's just something about a gold rush. Just the words themselves..."

Lisbon shook her head and went back to her food.

xxxxx

About an hour later, Lisbon was nursing a cup of tea, feeling about half awake.

Jane noticed. An impish part of him wanted to see how long she'd last before she finally gave up and just tossed him out. The other part of him just wanted to tuck her into bed and tell her not to worry about anything. He'd take care of it.

Really, he just wanted to take care of her, to make sure she was okay.

Time to put his plan in motion. Jane stretched with an exaggerated yawn.

Lisbon glanced in his direction.

He looked at the clock on her wall. "Oh, it's later than I thought it was."

Lisbon glanced reflexively at her own watch, but found she was far too tired to care what it actually said. "Yeah," she agreed.

"I should let you get some sleep," Jane said slowly.

"Mmmm," Lisbon hummed.

Jane hesitated. "Hey Lisbon?" he asked.

"Mmmm," she hummed again.

"You mind if I sleep on your couch?" he asked casually.

Her eyes popped open suspiciously. "I don't need you to watch me, Jane. I'm fine."

Jane mentally rolled his eyes. She really was ridiculously predictable sometimes. "I know," he assured her. "I mean, obviously _you're_ fine. A little tired maybe, but other than that... It's just that, I don't know. I did almost get shot today, by my own boss. And it's been a long day somehow. I really don't like guns. And I don't want to go back to an empty apartment right now. I'm tired. Plus, I'm going to have to come back here to pick you up first thing tomorrow morning. I just want to relax for a few hours, Teresa. And I like your couch."

Lisbon was sitting bolt upright by the time he'd finished. "Jane! Why didn't you say something before now?" she demanded. "Are you sure you're okay? Of course you can stay. Did you want to talk about it? Getting shot at I mean? I know... I know it's always a bit unnerving. I just figured since you brushed it off before... But I can stay down here with you for a little bit, if you want me to."

Jane winced mentally. He may have poured it on a bit thick. He'd just wanted to guilt her into letting him sleep on her couch, enough that she didn't suspect the real reason he wanted to stay. "No, no," he assured her. "You go to bed. You look absolutely exhausted, dear. I'll be fine. I just don't really feel like driving halfway across the city. And I have my pillow."

Lisbon furrowed her eyebrows, confused by Jane's sudden change in mood. He'd gone from lonely and apparently sad to oddly pleased in the space of about thirty seconds. "Okay, if you're sure..." she said slowly.

"I am," he assured her.

"Then I think I am going to head up to bed," she informed him, holding back a yawn. She was too tired to figure it all out right now. Without further ado, Lisbon hoisted herself up, grabbed her crutches and started towards the stairs.

She'd barely made it up the first step before Jane was by her side, taking one of her crutches and slipping his arm around her instead.

"Um, Jane?" she asked.

"Yes Teresa?"

"What are you doing?" she wondered.

"Helping you up the stairs," he informed her simply.

"I am perfectly capable of..." Lisbon started to tell him

"Oh hush woman!" Jane ordered irritably. "Would you just let me help you? You're practically dead on your feet. You're going to hurt yourself. And if you don't get better before our next case, Hightower might really shoot me next time. And then where will be?"

Lisbon rolled her eyes.

Jane decided to take her silence as a victory and shifted even closer. He was forced to admit that one side benefit to Lisbon on crutches was that her injury gave him all sorts of excuses to touch her. He missed that.

As they made their way up the stairs, Lisbon couldn't help acknowledging how nice it was to have someone around to help her when she was hurt. Five years ago when she'd sprained her wrist after a tackle went wrong, she remembered wishing that there'd been a second person tagging around her apartment just to you know, open cans or carry things, stuff like that. And now, this time, here Jane was, helping her walk up the stairs. She leaned into his arm. The stupid crutches _did_ get tiring, especially when you weren't used to them. Jane may have been the one to get her into this mess, but at least he let her lean on him afterwards.

She paused when they got to the landing. "Well, here we are," she said softly.

"So we are," Jane agreed.

"So I guess you can let go now," Lisbon prompted.

Jane sent her a slightly pained smile. He didn't really _want_ to let go, but she was right. "Of course," he told her, slipping his arm from around her waist. "I'll just head back downstairs then."

"Okay," she whispered.

He brushed her hair behind her ear. "I'll just be on your couch for the night."

"Yes, you will," Lisbon agreed.

"Yeah, so if you need anything," Jane reminded her. "I'll be here. Don't worry about waking me. I'm an insomniac anyway. And I'll drive you in tomorrow."

"I know," she whispered, suddenly realizing that all his talk about being too tired to drive home and not wanting to be alone after getting shot at was just that, talk. He was staying for her, and her alone. He'd just given them both an easy excuse to make it happen. She felt an unfamiliar warmth flood her chest.

"Okay," he whispered back, holding her eyes for just a second too long. Then, before Lisbon knew what was happening he'd kissed her cheek. "Feel better soon, dear. I don't think either Madeleine or I would survive another case like this one," he murmured against her temple.

With that he was on his way down the stairs.

Lisbon watched him go for a minute, before she turned into her own room, biting her lip.

She didn't let her smile escape until after she'd climbed into bed. It was foolish, but knowing Jane was down on her couch was reassuring somehow. Like close by was exactly where he belonged.

Complicated as he was, and despite the problems he brought, she'd rather have him near than not.

He was sweet, when he wanted to be.

And she knew that when it came right down to it, Jane was right. She really didn't need to be jealous.

Regardless of how much he teased, he'd made it very clear how he felt about her.

He was definitely her consultant, her Jane.

She might want to keep him that way.

xxxxx

The end


	19. TAG: Have a Care

Soo... I find I really don't like leaving TAGs unfinished long after post-eps are done. So here she is. No idea when the 3.16 post-ep will go up. I have thoughts, but absolutely nothing written. I'd imagine a couple weeks, minimum.

Hope you enjoy this little snippet in the interim.

xxxxx

3.15 TAG: Have a Care

xxxxx

"I cannot believe this!" Lisbon growled.

"Lisbon…" Jane tried to interject.

"No! Stop talking!" she snapped, turning towards him with angry eyes. "You don't get to talk now! It's my turn."

"Technically you're not talking; you're yelling," Jane couldn't resist pointing out.

Lisbon stared at him for a second. "Oh you think this is funny, do you?"

"Well…." Jane trailed off. "Not funny _exactly_..."

"Yeah, it's just hilarious, isn't it?" Lisbon asked sarcastically. "Just a regular party around here now! Do you know how many phone calls I've gotten in the last ten minutes about this Jane?"

"I would have thought one would be sufficient," Jane replied truthfully.

"_Three!"_ Lisbon corrected. "I have received _three_ calls, _so far._"

"Well, Mr. Bronton does have a lot of staff," Jane mused.

"A lot of staff…" Lisbon repeated in disbelief. "Mr. Bronton owns several, rather large, international companies Jane. He's a prominent businessman Jane, he doesn't just have a lot of _staff._ He has a lot of _friends,_ friends in high places."

"Ah."

"Ah." Lisbon repeated again. "He's a big fish, and youhumiliated him! You made him look a fool in front of his board of directors!"

She was genuinely angry but Jane held his ground without even a hint of guilt or remorse. "He was the one foolish enough to believe my little story," Jane reminded his boss. "And he was even more foolish to fly off the handle like he did, and make all those ridiculous public announcements. Even so, there was no lasting harm done to any of his companies, plus we solved the case. And as for his board of directors, one of them was the guilty party, if you'll recall. Broton'll be lucky if he gets out of this without being investigated for fraud at the very least."

"That may be true, but you didn't need to make him a target to solve the case!" Lisbon explained. "You did that for no good reason that I can see. Now I'll be fielding calls all evening, probably including a bunch from my boss, and my boss's boss! And you don't care! In fact, your behaviour and your actions were completely careless. You didn't think!"

"I do care," Jane assured her. "But I still wouldn't have done anything differently. Even if my apparently unwarranted chastening wasn't _strictly_ necessary to solve the case." He knew the truth would only irritate her further, but he really was trying not to lie so much.

"_Chastening?" _Lisbon asked. "Is that what you're calling it?"

"Yes," Jane confirmed without hesitation.

"I told you!" Lisbon snapped. "You don't do this sort of thing. There are some people you just don't piss off!"

"He acted like we were staff, worse than that actually, like we were his own personal little servants, completely below his notice," Jane reminded her. He refused to speak to Van Pelt at all, told her to get back to her computer, like she was some damn secretary. He was snide to Cho, condescending to Rigsby, and let's not even get started on how he treated _you, _Lisbon!"

"Jane…"

"Did Bronton even learn your name?" Jane asked her. "He was bad enough with your team, but you dealt with him the most, probably deliberately. You bore the brunt of his behaviour."

"I'm a big girl Jane," Lisbon reminded him. "And I dealt with Bronton because sometimes I think I'm the only one on this team with any tact."

"He was sexually harassing you!" Jane hissed, his own anger suddenly breaking free. "You know he was. Treating you like his little plaything. Like it was his right, just because you happen to be a beautiful woman as well as a cop. The things he said, and then… Damn it Lisbon, he tried to grope you in the middle of his office! _I was standing five feet away from you when he tried it!_"

"I KNOW!" Lisbon yelled back. "I was the one who had to move away from his wandering hands! And I told him off _and _I gave him a warning. I just didn't do it _publically._"

"_He still had no right,_" Jane growled. Bronton was the scum of the earth. Why couldn't she see that?

"Just because he was wrong_,_ doesn't make what you did right," Lisbon argued. She had wanted a shower after her meeting with Bronton, but she hadn't wanted to deal with a massive public relations nightmare because of it. Not that public relations ever mattered to Jane.

Jane was gearing up to continue with his argument. Lisbon was lucky his retribution against Bronton had taken the form of mental torture and embarrassment. The consultant had been about thirty seconds away from breaking the man's hands himself. And then what he'd said after Lisbon had left the room... But Jane had no intention of telling her about any of that. He was distracted from telling her anything at all by a door opening behind them.

Both Lisbon and Jane turned to look at their unannounced visitor.

"Am I interrupting something?" Madeleine Hightower asked from the doorway of Lisbon's office, sounding surprisingly amused (at least in Lisbon's opinion).

Lisbon took a breath to compose herself, glad that her boss hadn't interrupted them later. Who knows what either of them might have said if they'd continued on at the rate they were going. "No ma'am," she assured her boss quickly. "Just a difference of opinion."

"Yes, I gathered that," Hightower said dryly. "Actually, the whole floor gathered that, if the number of people studiously avoiding this office is anything to go by."

"I apologize for the outburst," Lisbon said immediately and mechanically.

Hightower waved a dismissive hand in the senior agent's direction. "Jane?" she asked.

"Madeleine," he replied.

"I don't suppose you have anything to contribute to this discussion," Hightower prompted.

Jane ignored Lisbon's warning glare. "Lisbon objects to my treatment of _Mr._ Bronton, seems to think it was unprofessional and unnecessary."

"It was unprofessional," Hightower agreed. "You deliberately made an enemy of an influential man, and made all our jobs more difficult than they needed to be this week, Patrick."

"_Thank you!_" Lisbon said emphatically with a significant look towards her consultant. "Ma'am," she added, as an afterthought.

"I suppose. But he deserved it," Jane agreed mulishly.

"So you say," Hightower said evenly. Jane opened his mouth to explain further, but Hightower cut him off. "And in this case I happen to agree with you. That man was an ass, Teresa. I have it on good authority that he's lucky we're not serving him with a harassment suit, or rather several harassment suits. So cut Patrick a bit of slack this time, would you?"

With one final smile Hightower left as quickly as she'd come, discretely closing the door behind her.

Lisbon turned towards Jane who was now looking awfully smug. "What the hell just happened?" she asked.

"Madeleine agreed with me," Jane explained. "As happens from time to time."

"I don't believe this," Lisbon said blankly

"I don't know why," Jane replied. "After all, aren't you the one who always says that team members should try to look out for each other?"

Lisbon stared at him in what Jane considered to be an unnecessarily unnerving silence.

"Something about a team being like a family, if I'm not mistaken," Jane continued, awkwardly running a hand through his hair.

Lisbon just kept staring.

Jane took a breath and tentatively stepped towards her. "Lisbon look, I know I'm not always the best at…"

"Oh, shut up Jane!" she said quickly, suddenly agitated. "Just shut up and let me enjoy this for once, would you?"

Now it was Jane's turn to stare at her in shock. But he complied with her request, reaching out to place his hand lightly over hers.

Lisbon lowered her eyes, her mind whirling. Jane had been… he'd been trying to protect her. No, not protect her. He'd been trying to, she didn't know, act as some sort of champion maybe. Jane had put himself firmly by her side, against Bronton. Apparently he'd even been listening when she'd tried to explain what it meant to be a part of a team. He'd actually listened to her when she told him about something important. And he was still trying to look out for her, no matter how many times she told him not to.

The idea was thrilling and terrifying all at once.

"I do try, Lisbon," Jane said softly.

A pleased smile flickered on her face before she could stop it, "_I know."_

"Okay."

She tried to shake off her gravity, and managed to send him a half a smile. "But if you could somehow _try_ without it becoming some sort of public relations nightmare…"

"Well, you can't have everything," Jane said with a hint of a grin.

Lisbon smirked. "Oh, I'm well aware of _that._"

Jane smiled briefly. Then his expression turned serious and he took a step towards her. "Teresa…" he whispered, his fingers tightening around hers.

She shook her head, sure that whatever he was about to say would somehow ruin it. "Shhh…"

"Okay," he agreed, sensing pushing her further would be a bad idea.

Lisbon took a deep breath and tried to make sense of her thoughts.

The idea that Patrick Jane would try to protect her, to defend her honour, it was laughable. It was ludicrous. It was any number of things, almost none of them complimentary.

But it was also the most anyone had done for her in a long time.

She was after all, always the protector, never the protected.

Except sometimes maybe with Jane. Maybe.

Whenever she least expected it; whenever she let him.

It was shocking how much part of her wanted to let him.

Just occasionally.

When things got really bad. When maybe having someone around would be… useful.

She wasn't used to having someone look out for her. The idea that he might want to was… intoxicating.

Like she had someone.

It made her feel cared for.

It made her feel wanted.

Lisbon smiled up at him suddenly, her smile wide and bright. She revelled in the pleasure that spread through her chest when he returned it immediately.

After all, maybe it was just _him_ that made her feel wanted.

xxxxx

The end


	20. Post 316:  All Unsettled

Hey guys. I'm two thirds of the way through the third season. That's kind of crazy. I'm trying to get a certain number of these done before the premiere. This one isn't particularly long, but really, not a whole lot happens in this episode. I mean, the Red John plot is advanced, and Hightower goes into hiding, but there's not too much that I care about, and clearly that is all that matters.

xxxxx

Post 3.16: All Unsettled

xxxxx

Everything was changing.

Everything was unsettled.

Again.

She didn't like it, didn't like it at all. But then, she'd never really liked change.

Lisbon was tucked as deep into the corner of her couch as she could get, thankful she no longer had to be at the office with all its reminders.

She liked things to stay the way they were. She felt secure when things stayed the way they were.

Now Madeleine Hightower was on the run, accused of murder, evading arrest, probably also taking a hostage, and who knows what else.

Lisbon still couldn't quite believe it, any of it.

Just when she thought she'd been getting to know her new boss too.

Lisbon hadn't always liked the other woman, but she'd respected her, and she'd felt like maybe the two of them could have been friends, or something. Strong women in law enforcement, there'd certainly been some common ground there.

And now the same woman Lisbon had always admired was a fugitive from justice.

And the CBI would need another new director after barely a year.

It just didn't feel right. Lisbon felt like she was missing something. She just wasn't sure what.

Something about the way it had been handled. Lisbon couldn't help feeling that if Madeleine had been a man things might have gone down a little differently. Or actually, who knows with LaRoche in charge. He may have been creepy as hell, but he seemed to be creepy as hell in a gender-neutral sort of a way. Although something just felt_ wrong_.

Jane probably could have told her what that was.

But Jane had told her not to have doubts.

Don't have doubts. Well, Lisbon couldn't help that.

She'd have loved to be able to accept everything at face value, bury her head in the sand, and go about her day.

But she couldn't do that either.

She'd have been dead years ago if she had. Well, either her or Jane. One of them.

Besides, following the status quo wasn't an option right now. There _was_ no status quo.

There was only change.

And her team. Her team hadn't changed. Yet.

Nor Jane, Jane was still the same.

She didn't understand him always, and she knew there was something going on in the background with him, something that she couldn't see.

But he hadn't _changed._

He was still around.

Still walking just on the wrong side of the rules.

Still orbiting around her only a few steps away.

Still almost constantly in danger.

He'd almost died again today.

Lisbon felt a burst of unspeakable anger towards her former boss.

Hightower had held a gun to her consultant,_ her _consultant. Nobody touched her Jane. If they did, they got to face the business end ofTeresa Lisbon's gun. That was the rule. (Okay, sometimes she sent Rigsby or Cho to do it, but Jane got in trouble an awful lot.)

Madeleine Hightower had threatened one of her people. Lisbon wasn't sure if she could forgive that. Especially since the woman almost shot Jane the last time she was working with him as well.

This was the _second time_ Madeleine Hightower had almost killed the Serious Crime Unit's consultant.

That was just plain unacceptable.

Of course, if Hightower really had committed a murder and stolen a museum artifact, if Hightower really was somehow involved with Red John, then holding a gun to Jane's head was the least of the woman's crimes.

Lisbon felt so confused.

It was too much change all at once.

Creepy LaRoche, Duplicitous Hightower, Reticent Jane.

Jane.

She and Jane.

The two of them were changing too.

Lisbon had been frightened when he hadn't picked up his phone for two hours. (Where the hell had he been? What if he'd blacked out from his concussion?)

There'd been something between them. There _was _something between them.

Okay, she'd said it. There was something there. Or there had been.

At least, she thought so.

Then she'd been betrayed.

Lisbon buried her head in her hands. That's why Kristina Frye had hurt so damn much. Because Jane had mattered, really mattered. What they had had mattered to her. And it'd hurt that he hadn't even considered her, that it obviously hadn't mattered to him.

And there was still something there. She couldn't quite let him go. She didn't want to let him go.

His insanity had become her stability.

And she wanted to protect him from the guns he hated so much.

Everything was such a mess. Serial Killers. Betrayal. Red John. Todd Johnson. Madeleine Hightower. Bertram, LaRoche, Jane.

And her.

She was caught up in it now, maybe permanently caught up in it.

There was nothing she could do about it. She'd made her choice. Now she could only accept it.

Red John could killer her any day.

Or he could kill Jane.

Then it would be too late. Jane would be gone.

Jane, who was still lying to her, Lisbon was almost certain of it. But Jane had also told her not to doubt.

Genuinely told her not to doubt, without a charming smile or other attempt to distract and divert her. Just trust. He'd been asking her to trust him, knowing that she didn't.

It made her wonder why he was lying. Just who or what was he protecting?

She wasn't so sure it was just his revenge anymore.

Because while Jane was lying, Lisbon was somehow certain it wasn't to keep her away, wasn't meant to hurt her. He'd been lying for some other reason. Something he thought would be for her benefit.

And then he'd thanked her for coming to his rescue, looking up at her from that makeshift bed of his in the attic.

In that moment, when he'd been smiling up at her looking almost open, definitely vulnerable, and somehow genuine, Lisbon had wanted nothing more than to curl up beside him and forget about the rest of the world.

Forget about the mess. Forget about the betrayal and the hurt.

Jane had looked angelic, innocent, safe.

She knew better, but she didn't care.

She'd still wanted him to hold her. And she'd wanted to hold him.

She cared so much. About all of it.

That's why it hurt so damn much.

She didn't _want_ Jane spending the night up in his attic alone. And not because it was unhealthy. And not because he probably had a concussion (though those were very good reasons).

They were the reasons Lisbon would have told anyone else, had they asked. Hell, before today, they were the reasons she would have told herself.

But she was done with that. At least for tonight.

Because the truth was, she didn't want Jane spending the night alone in his attic because she wanted him here, with _her_.

She wanted him close.

She wanted to be able to keep an eye on him.

But that was a lie too.

A lie, and not a lie.

He'd been held at gunpoint, _again._

That was getting tiresome. One of these days someone was going to actually shoot.

And then he'd be gone, her consultant, her Jane. And he wouldn't know… She wouldn't know…

She just wanted him near her. Was that so wrong?

Everything was changing.

Lisbon curled her knees up under her chin, pushing back against her couch. Her couch. Jane could sleep on _her_ couch instead of the attic. If he wanted. Lisbon was sure the two beds were equally comfortable.

She sighed, shaking her head. And her eyes slid to something on her coffee table.

Her phone.

She stared at it. Jane hadn't been answering his phone all night anyway. She'd had to go look for him herself.

There was no reason to think he'd answer it now either, if she called again. In fact, he probably wouldn't.

But that didn't mean she couldn't _check._

Lisbon hit redial.

"Why am I not surprised you're checking up on me?" Jane said by way of greeting.

Lisbon smirked, trying to ignore her rapidly beating heart. "Did you thank LaRoche?" she asked, searching for a distraction from her thoughts.

"Him and his Hummel figurines and his fluffy white dog," Jane confirmed.

That actually did distract her. "LaRoche has a fluffy white dog?" Lisbon asked.

"Mmhm," Jane agreed. "And he lives in a house, not a riverbank."

"I… Jane, how hard did you hit your head?" Lisbon demanded.

Jane smirked. "He reminds me of some sort of aquatic animal, Lisbon," the consultant explained. "A weasel, or a muskrat, or a toad. Maybe a combination of all three."

"Weasels aren't aquatic," Lisbon murmured.

"But they do make burrows," Jane told her.

"So do groundhogs and badgers!" Lisbon exclaimed, not having any idea what Jane was talking about. "Burrowing isn't aquatic."

"It is if the burrow is by the river, aquatic_ish _at least," Jane said triumphantly. "And a badger? Good one Lisbon."

"None of this is making me less concerned about your head injury," Lisbon told him.

Jane smiled affectionately. "Nothing would make _you_ less concerned about my head injury," he told her. "Not even a doctor's certificate saying I was in perfect health."

"Shut up."

"And you didn't even say anything about LaRoche's little white dog," Jane said petulantly.

"Are you sure that wasn't a hallucination?" Lisbon asked dryly.

"I'm positive," Jane told her. "LaRoche has a yippy, fluffy, tiny, _white_ dog. That he apparently carries around with him when he's at home."

Lisbon snorted. "I'm not sure why the fact that it's _white_ is the most surprising thing to you," she told him. "Lots of small dogs are white."

"It's just, it's a mental picture Lisbon," Jane told her. "And it's an absurd one."

"I'm sure the dog is very cute," Lisbon replied with a smile.

"Forget about the dog," Jane growled.

"You brought it up!" Lisbon reminded him. "Twice now actually."

"And now I'm saying forget about it," Jane repeated.

"Fine," Lisbon agreed.

"Good."

She paused, waiting just the right amount of time. "Actually, I can see how LaRoche holding a white dog would be funny."

Jane let his eyes drift shut as he smiled. "You do enjoy messing with me, don't you woman?"

"Look who's talking," she told him.

"Hmm."

"Jane?" she asked after a moment.

Jane sat up slightly, something in her tone telling him this was going to be important, that she'd called for a reason. "Yes Lisbon?"

She took a breath, feeling her heart-rate becoming elevated again. "Are you sure you're alright?" she asked, caving to her insecurities at the last second.

"Why wouldn't I be?" he asked, suddenly wary. He knew she didn't quite believe his story about Hightower, not completely.

Lisbon shrugged. "You've been having a bit of a rough day," she said dryly.

"Hm. Not my worst," he reminded her. "And I can relax now."

"Hmm."

He lapsed into silence.

"Jane?" Lisbon said, trying again.

"Yes Lisbon?" he asked.

"If you have a concussion shouldn't someone be watching you?" she asked, getting the question out in a whoosh of anxiety, the blood pumping in her ears. "Shouldn't you not be alone?"

Jane froze. Alone. He was better off alone. Wasn't he? "Lisbon… Teresa…"

"I have a couch or… Anyway, I could come and get you," Lisbon stammered.

"I'll be there in ten minutes," Jane told her. His mind suddenly made up he practically flew off his couch. She'd called him. "Ten minutes."

"Okay," she exhaled in relief, just before he hung up the phone.

He was coming.

Good.

She was getting tired of keeping him away.

Her life was nothing but chaos.

At least he was chaos she was used to.

xxxxx

What was he doing?

What in the hell was he doing?

He couldn't tell her. He couldn't. No matter what Madeleine thought. And Lisbon was already suspicious. He wasn't going to tell her.

But what was the point of pushing her away anymore?

Jane certainly didn't need to test her. He was done with that.

Every time he did she always came through for him, so what was the point of further tests?

Lisbon always saved him. She was his white knight.

But some people couldn't be saved.

If they could, _(if they could_) Teresa Lisbon would be the one to do it. But he couldn't ask that of her.

It might get her killed. So he wasn't going to tell her.

But he also wasn't going to push her away. She didn't deserve that.

He knew she was more upset about Hightower than she was letting on.

There'd been a lot of upheaval at the CBI lately. He couldn't add to her burdens.

He would protect her.

She would need, she would need…

Lisbon had liked her boss. And that feeling was mutual. After all, Lisbon was the only person Hightower had trusted enough to suggest telling.

And now Lisbon was all alone, alone with her hurting heart and her suspicions.

_No one's better off alone._

Lisbon definitely wasn't. So Jane wouldn't let her be.

And he certainly wouldn't, couldn't, _not_ come when she called. Not when she'd called and _asked for him_. Lisbon didn't _ask_ for anything.

Besides, he needed her too.

xxxxx

Jane drove so fast that it only took him eight minutes to get to her.

For once Lisbon didn't chide him for it.

She just smiled a greeting, pulled him through her front door, led him to her couch and sat down beside him.

"Have you been having any dizzy spells?" she asked.

"Just a bit of ringing in my ears," Jane told her.

"Jane…"

"I'm fine," he assured her.

"Someone should watch you," she whispered.

"Hey," he replied tilting her chin up towards him so he could see her eyes.

"I'll watch you," she said softly.

Jane sighed, leaning his forehead against hers (for a moment, just for a moment, he promised himself). "I'm fine, Teresa," he whispered again. "I'm here."

"You almost got shot, again," she snapped, moving away slightly.

"But I _didn't_ get shot, again," he countered, resisting the urge to pull her back to him.

"I'm going to watch you to make sure you don't fall into a coma in your sleep," Lisbon informed him.

"Okay," Jane whispered, running a finger up her neck, to brush an imaginary tear off of her cheek.

He felt her breath hitch in her chest, the movement travelling straight into his.

She met his eyes.

He couldn't look away.

Until she threw her arms around his neck.

Then her momentum carried him backwards until his elbow hit the arm of her couch, her head coming to rest against his shoulder.

And Jane realized that Lisbon had already put his pillow out for him.

He shifted downwards to lean his head against it. It may have been his pillow, but he didn't mind sharing, not with her at least. He closed his eyes and threaded a hand through her hair, silently helping her shift into a more comfortable position against him. He could feel her breath whisper lightly against his neck.

So warm. So very warm. So alive.

His Lisbon.

"You know," he whispered near her ear. "I've heard the first few hours after a concussion are the most crucial. "

"I've heard that too," Lisbon agreed, shifting her arms lower as she settled against him.

"So I think you should feel free to watch me carefully, from very close by," Jane told her.

He thought he felt her smile against his shoulder. "I think I could do that," she whispered.

Tentatively he stretched out on the couch beneath her, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her from falling as she stretched out with him.

It was a tight fit, but Jane didn't care if Lisbon didn't. And she certainly didn't seem to, not if her arm curled around his side was anything to go by.

"Thank you for making sure I'm not about to die tonight," he whispered in her ear, stroking her back.

"Thanks for coming," she whispered back, snuggling closer.

Jane sighed, placing an oh-so-dangerous kiss to the top of her head. "I didn't want to be alone."

This time he was sure that he felt her smile. "Me neither."

"You should try and get some rest dear," he told her. "It's going to be a long night for you, if you're going to be constantly checking up on me."

"Hmmm," she whispered.

Jane pulled the blanket down from its now permanent home on the back of her couch. "I should be alright for an hour or so," he promised, tucking it around her as best he could from his current position before replacing his arm around her. "I think we could both use a nap."

Then he let the sound of her breathing soothe the clamour in his head.

The last thing Jane remembered before dropping off was Lisbon's free hand sliding down his chest and finding his.

Lisbon managed to stay awake a little while longer. Things might be disastrous in the morning, but she didn't care.

She was so sick of lying to herself, pretending that this wasn't exactly what she'd wanted all along.

Jane. Here. With her.

Lisbon lifted her head to make sure he was really sleeping peacefully. Satisfied for the moment, she brushed the briefest of kisses against his cheek before dropping her head back onto his shoulder.

Where it still fit perfectly. At least that hadn't changed.

She would watch him, keep him alive.

And make sure he was still with her.

For a little while, they would keep each other close.

Everything was unsettled around her, but not for tonight.

Tonight she was just going to settle in.

xxxxx

The End


	21. Post 317: Succeeding Disruption

Alright, here we go. Next one. I hope people are still reading this, because I'm still enjoying doing it, now that I'm (somewhat) over the finale.

Anyway, enjoy!

xxxxx

Post 3.17: Succeeding Disruption

xxxxxx

Lisbon was shuffling through all the paperwork on her desk, inordinately pleased by her stack of completed forms. The pile really was quite impressive; any time a case so much as hinted around some kind of nuclear material the paperwork tended to triple. And their last case had done a heck of a lot more than hint. Lisbon shuddered to think about what could have happened to the stolen radioactive material had the team not caught up with it. She also tried not to think about how easy (relatively) it had been for a mid-level staffer to remove it from the hospital in the first place. After all, she was hoping to be able to sleep at night.

So instead of dwelling on might-have-beens, she double-checked the signatures on all the forms.

Supervisory Agent: Teresa Lisbon.

She felt the smile hinting around the corners of her mouth. She couldn't help it.

Although, it really wasn't all that funny come to think of it. She'd very nearly been permanently demoted because she'd been having a bad day and she'd run her mouth off at the wrong person. That really wasn't funny at all. But that was another thing Lisbon was trying to hard not to think about now that the status quo had been restored. She was just glad LaRoche hadn't decided to make Cho's promotion permanent, not that Cho didn't deserve his own team of course, but man would _that_ have been awkward.

LaRoche.

Lisbon sighed.

Now there was a complication that she did _not_ need right now. Apparently in the game of musical chairs the CBI was playing to find a new director, one of the major qualifications seemed to be to make Lisbon's job as difficult as possible. At least that was what it felt like. God she missed Minnelli. Hell, she missed _Hightower._ Lisbon had a feeling that the reign of LaRoche was going to be an interesting experience. Hopefully he wouldn't make messing with the agents who worked for him a common practice. Insisting on a little respect Lisbon could understand, and her earlier outburst probably had been uncalled for, but _still._

Talk about your excessive reaction.

Although, Lisbon supposed a demotion was one way to lay down the law.

People would definitely be wary of disrespecting him now.

If LaRoche wanted to lead using fear with a good measure of creepiness tossed in, that was his call. Lisbon was sticking to her own leadership techniques.

Of course, the temporary reprieve from her responsibilities hadn't been entirely horrible. She wistfully remembered her team's friendly faces when they'd invited her out for drinks to celebrate the return of the status quo.

But Lisbon hadn't been free to go with them anymore. She had obligations again, paperwork.

Well, she was free now, though she knew the team was long gone, as she was hoping to be soon as well. With that, Lisbon shut the final file of the stack and moved to turn off her computer.

That was when she heard the voice in the doorway.

"So back in our job, despite our earlier show of temper are we?" Jane asked, dunking a teabag in and out of his teacup.

Lisbon grinned crookedly at him. As was becoming more and more common lately, she wasn't the last one in the office alone. Apparently she also hadn't been the only one to pass up the team's invitation for drinks. Lisbon had to admit, she was rather pleased by that fact. She was becoming rather used to Jane's company. "Guess so," she replied.

"Well that's lucky," Jane said neutrally.

Lisbon turned back to her computer briefly, unwilling suddenly to meet his eyes. Her reinstatement had been lucky, and she didn't want to talk about it. "Apparently LaRoche was just messing with me," she said dryly. "Of all the ridiculous things."

"He is an enigma," Jane said softly.

"Mhmm," Lisbon murmured in vague agreement. "Though I suppose I did deserve it," she added absently.

"Yes, that was quite the outburst," Jane agreed.

Lisbon was distracted by her e-mail and didn't reply. She'd gotten used to Jane milling around her office while she worked.

"You had me worried," Jane admitted softly. LaRoche was certainly annoying, but Lisbon's reaction to the man had smacked too much of the impending breakdown she occasionally threatened. Jane hadn't liked it, hadn't liked it at all. Teresa Lisbon did not fly off the handle, not without a very good reason. She was supposed to be the calm one. She was clearly carrying around far too much stress. And that was without knowing the truth about the Hightower situation. LaRoche's little interrogation had been pointless because Lisbon really had no idea where Hightower was. Imagine if she'd known what really happened the day of Hightower's escape. And Madeleine wanted him to tell her!

Jane scoffed. What did Madeleine know? Quite apart from putting Lisbon in danger, he couldn't add anything else to her plate. She was too determined to protect everyone on her team and fix everything as it was. It was inevitable that the strain would start to show. Even on her. Jane frowned into his tea, as he considered their situation. She needed to relieve some stress obviously, but how? She wouldn't take a vacation, she didn't seem to like going to the spa, and he was pretty sure she already exercised regularly. Maybe he could hypnotize her. Although, that wouldn't result in permanent stress relief because as soon as she came to, she'd probably fly into a homicidal rage in his direction.

Jane's last words registered somewhere in the back of Lisbon's mind as she skimmed her e-mail. She looked up after a moment in surprise. Jane was worried about her? _What? _"What?"

Jane frowned at her surprise. "You're not exactly known for losing your temper, dear," he reminded her.

She flushed slightly in mild embarrassment. "LaRoche's tactics infuriate me sometimes, even if I understand them," she explained. "He may like setting people off-balance, but he certainly didn't need to pester me at a _crime scene_. I just got fed up all at once. It's been a long week and… Anyway, I shouldn't have lost my temper, but I did. But hey, it got me a nice vacation of trying to control you, if only for a few days," she added, trying to lighten the mood. Enjoying Jane's schemes without fear of reprisals had been fun for a little while. But it was done now. No more letting Jane go off on his own without any questions. He was her problem again, not Cho's. Lisbon smirked. Yup, Jane was hers. _She_ was the one he solved cases for, and _she_ was the one who kept him safe along the way. She sent him the man in question a friendly smile.

Jane smiled briefly in return. "Guess I'm so used to you being the sensible one," he told her. "You'll have to forgive me for my concern."

"That's sweet Jane, but it's not necessary," Lisbon informed him firmly.

Jane frowned again. But it was necessary. It was absolutely necessary. His Lisbon didn't need to be standing against the world, protecting her little flock against everyone and bearing it all on her shoulders, however well-suited to it she was. She could take it, but she shouldn't _have to_. Someone needed to look out for her, and it absolutely terrified him that more often than not, that job seemed to fall to him. Particularly frightening was how much he _wanted_ to do it.

Him. Patrick Jane.

Possibly the most ill-suited man for the job on the planet.

But Lisbon needed to stop taking so much on herself. Just occasionally, or she really would have a breakdown of some kind bore.

Jane stepped fully into her office, shutting the door behind him; their conversation had unexpectedly turned more serious (or was about to). He walked towards her. "No one would think the worst of you for putting yourself first from time to time, Teresa," said gently. "You don't always have to protect everyone. Let some of us take our own punishments; we'll survive it."

Lisbon looked at him pointedly, eyebrows raised at the use of her first name in the office. "You're one to criticize my tendency to protect people, _Jane_," she said significantly. "You don't really have a leg to stand on there."

He winced. It was true. He did reap most of the benefits from her mother-bear tendencies, not only when it came to his personal safety, but also when he tried to manipulate her. Her almost instinctive urge to protect was a trait he'd used against her more than once

Which was exactly why his attempts to help her were _ridiculous_.

"Still," Jane told her. "Next time one of us, one of your team royally screws up, throw us to the wolves, Teresa. We wouldn't resent you for it," he told her, grouping her entire team together. After all, she'd suffered for all of them more than once, probably more than once in the last year.

Lisbon sighed, wondering what had prompted this from Jane. Usually he wasn't nearly so serious.

Jane watched her, well aware that he wasn't getting through to her. "If you decided to protect yourself for once, we wouldn't think the worse of you, Lisbon," he said softly.

"But I might think the worse of myself," she admitted softly, staring determinedly at her computer screen.

Jane's heart gave an almost painful thud as he watched her self-consciously brush her hair behind her ear. He'd known that, actually. It was one of the best things about her, but it could end up tearing her apart. Setting his tea down on the corner of her desk, the consultant walked around it and threaded his hand in hers, pulling her up to stand next to him. "Oh Teresa, what are we going to do with you?"

She looked up at him, searching for a joke to keep things light. But she was unable to find one when she met his eyes. Jane was looking at her like he could really read her thoughts, his expression somehow both affectionate and sad. He started tracing circles on her palm with his thumb. All of a sudden Lisbon was far too aware of the fact that he was infringing on her personal space, and leaning still closer. She cleared her throat, trying to breathe normally. "I guess I'm just a lost cause," she said hoarsely.

"Never," Jane assured her, inching still dangerously closer as his fingers started to travel up her wrist. She wasn't a lost cause. He wouldn't let her lose.

Lisbon felt boxed in between him and her desk chair. Part of her wanted to shove him away, part of her wanted to…

This was dangerous. She needed to move. No. _He _needed to move.

She couldn't stand there staring at him, while he stared back at her. Watching her with his arm wrapped around hers, looking like…

She glanced away.

"Teresa…" Jane all but whispered.

She felt his breath flitting past her head, near her ear. She needed to pull it together. It didn't matter if she was lonely. It didn't matter if she missed… wanted…

This was a bad idea.

She steeled her heart against his eyes. "Jane?" Lisbon replied turning back to face him, her tone clipped and bright.

Then she tugged her arm back slightly.

After a couple painful seconds, Jane stepped back in turn (as he knew she wanted him to) though it was hard.

Lisbon shot him another overly bright smile. "It's not that I don't appreciate…" she started to say, not wanting to be cruel.

"Oh I know," Jane said with a wave of his hand and a fake smile of his own. "Well, I should let you finish up here," he added, knowing full well she was already done. But he couldn't be close to her right now. Especially not if she didn't want him to be. He sighed mentally, because no matter how good being closer to her felt, it was very clear that she wasn't comfortable with it. Not right now at least. Which, Jane was forced to admit was probably for the best anyway.

Never mind that she hadn't seemed to mind a little physical contact the week before when she'd literally fallen asleep on him.

Never mind that she needed someone. (And maybe he did too.)

Jane shook his head. No, she was right. This was sensible. She was sensible.

Lisbon smiled more normally as he moved to open the door. "I'll see you tomorrow?" she asked.

"Probably," Jane agreed quickly, as he stepped outside it. "Night Teresa."

"Night," she whispered back. But Jane was already gone.

Lisbon told herself she'd done the right thing. Things with Jane were complicated, they always had been. Especially since Hightower'd disappeared and they'd held each other (and allowed themselves to be held). Well, she'd also watched him to make sure his concussion didn't kill him. Sharing a couch with Jane hadn't been awkward at the time, but it had produced some unfortunate side-effects.

It had reminded her of what it felt like to be held.

It had reminded her of how good Jane was at that.

It had reminded her of how lonely it could be to go home alone every night.

Worst of all, it had reminded her of how things were over a year ago.

But their ease with each other the next morning had also reminded Lisbon that their relationship was better now, as a straight friendship. She knew where she stood now.

This wasn't just physical. Lisbon knew that she wouldn't be discarded whenever something (or someone) new and shiny came along. She may have lost some things when their relationship shifted, but she'd gained a lot as well.

It was better. It was.

She'd just have to remember that the next time Jane invaded her personal space, and she considered letting him stay there.

xxxxx

As Lisbon was packing up to leave, Jane was settling onto his makeshift bed in the attic, his thoughts still on the woman he'd just left downstairs. The woman with the quiet strength and sad eyes, the woman he was so consistently drawn too.

Her eyes weren't always sad though. They'd actually been downright playful for most of their last case.

Jane thought back to how much Lisbon had clearly been enjoying her temporary role as just another agent, divested of all responsibility. He rather suspected that Lisbon's enjoyment wouldn't have lasted much longer had she not been reinstated. A demotion within her own team would have been rather humiliating, no matter how good the team was about things. There had been some awkward moments as it was.

Jane was fairly certain that some of Lisbon's excess cheer had been a coping mechanism, a sort of denial. Or maybe not denial. Lisbon was nothing if not practical; she'd probably told herself she was making the best of a bad situation. Jane was glad things hadn't lasted long enough for reality to set in.

That would have been painful, for almost everyone involved.

Because it was obvious that in charge was where Lisbon belonged. She wore her authority well. It suited her.

Jane admitted he'd felt a bit of a flash of relief when he'd seen her in her office, behind her desk, as usual. (Though she'd never actually left her office, thank goodness). Still, while teasing Lisbon about no longer being the team leader had been fun for a day, Jane hadn't wanted it to go on any longer. Cho was a good agent, but he wasn't Lisbon. Lisbon somehow managed to walk the line between the politics and the practicalities of the job, and she did it in a way that meant that Jane could completely ignore that same line. He doubted Cho would manage that particular feat.

Glad as he was that she was back, Jane found himself drifting back to Lisbon's laughing eyes. He remembered her playfulness. Whenever he got to see that side of her it always reminded him of how much he actually genuinely liked her. She was fun, when she wanted to be, when she wasn't worried.

Not that Lisbon wasn't fun when she was in charge, but it was rarer. Jane still liked her, but she was more guarded. And, whatever Lisbon thought, she really hadn't deserved the temporary demotion. Jane wasn't sure what LaRoche's game was exactly. Striking the fear of god into Teresa Lisbon, he supposed, possibly as a quick and dirty method of getting all of the Agents in Charge to recognize his authority. Lisbon had been one of Hightower's more obvious supporters. Jane wouldn't have been surprised to learn that LaRoche had deliberately provoked Lisbon at the crime scene until she reacted to make a point.

J.J. LaRoche was manipulative, crafty.

For that reason someone needed to be kept an eye on him, and not only because Hightower's replacement was currently at the head of Jane's mental suspect list of Red John's mole in the CBI. Not only was LaRoche potentially in league with a mass murderer, but he had gone after Lisbon. Which was not okay as far as Jane as concerned. Not ever.

Jane supposed all of that didn't matter at the moment. Everything was back to normal. Whatever LaRoche's intentions, they didn't appear to include constantly undermining Lisbon or she wouldn't have been reinstated.

Although, it was hard to know what that man was thinking. Frustratingly hard.

Jane decided to turn his thoughts to other things as he finished his tea. No need to give LaRoche more importance than his due. Besides, thinking about LaRoche inevitably made him think about the CBI, and that in turn made him think about _her._

(_She_ didn't want him to get too close tonight.)

So instead he turned his thoughts to Byron Jordan. The consultant remembered the gratefulness in the man's voice, how much he obviously loved his wife. Jane remembered having someone that he cared about that much. He took out the medal that he still had in his pocket to examine it. , who apparently helped people in pain. Of course, tokens like this only worked if you believed in them. It made him think of her.

(So much for trying not to think about _her._)

Faith and protection. Helping people in pain.

Jane told himself that the mental association was just because it was the sort of talisman Lisbon would be likely to have. It was her faith after all. She was the one who believed in a higher power. She was the protector. And not that Jane believed in them, but apparently saints were supposed to look after people.

He smirked.

No wonder she'd been 'Saint Teresa' back at the SFPD.

It was her gift and her curse. And it carried on to this day, even if her nickname hadn't. Lisbon made him feel protected in a way Jane hadn't in years sometimes. If there was anyone who could keep him alive...

Though she shouldn't. She shouldn't worry so much about that. He'd been lost long ago. No need for her to go down too.

Jane flopped down on his pillow in frustration, trying to let the day go.

It wasn't working.

He sighed. His temporary cot wasn't nearly as comfortable as actual furniture. Like his own bed, or Lisbon's couch.

Lisbon's couch.

A piece of furniture even more comfortable when she was on it with him.

Or possibly more accurately, when she was on him.

Jane remembered being curled up on it with her the week before. He remembered waking up in the middle of the night and for once not caring that his sleep had been interrupted, because she'd wound herself around him. Jane let himself relive the warmth, and the comfort of being near another human being. And he remembered that it was the most relaxed he'd felt in weeks.

He'd actually managed to sleep fairly soundly for a significant chunk of the night.

Even accounting for the fact that Lisbon had been elbowing him none to gently in the ribs every two hours or so, demanding to know whether or not he was dead.

Jane was so used to crashing on her couch that the morning after hadn't even been awkward.

He'd just made tea while she made her coffee beside him. She'd made toast, he'd cut up a couple of apples.

Breakfast together just… worked.

It was soothing… And it was a calm that could be shattered at any minute.

By a call to go to a crime scene.

By LaRoche getting in the way and causing mischief.

By Lisbon being demoted, or transferred, thanks to yet another capricious boss.

By Red John.

By murder. And not just Red John. Lisbon's job was dangerous, really dangerous. She could get shot tomorrow by a suspect trying to stay out of jail. And if she was shot then there would never be any more breakfasts.

No more pestering her in her office. Jane wasn't foolish enough to think another supervisor would allow it. (Not even Cho, who hadn't wanted the office in the first place.)

There would quite simply be no more Lisbon.

She would just be gone.

And she wouldn't know…

There would be things unsaid.

All of a sudden it all became too much.

And before he knew it, Jane was halfway down the attic stairs on his way to her apartment. He was trying very hard not to think about why.

He just, he needed to see her.

There were things he needed to say. And things she needed to hear.

Whether she wanted to or not.

xxxxxx

Jane walked up to her door slowly. He wasn't going to overload on her, he decided. She was already having a rough day. He just needed to see her face. Just for a minute.

He still couldn't explain it, but he did. She was one of the few things he cared about on the planet. And she'd been threatened. She _had_ been. Even if she'd tried to play it down, push it away.

Push him away.

Jane didn't like being pushed.

He just needed to talk to her, to explain.

He'd been thinking about this the entire ride over, figuring out what he was going to say. So he was going to go in, and she'd make a pot of tea, and the two of them would have a conversation.

He would remind her that she was allowed to be upset about things when she was with him. That it was okay to get angry about LaRoche if she wanted. Or maybe Jane would get angry for her, since she was unlikely to. And he would just, he would make sure she was alright. That she wasn't caught up in her head, or something.

Jane knocked on the door, nervous for some inexplicable reason. And really, really wanting to see her. Maybe he just needed to see her eyes again, to double check that she really was okay.

He didn't think he'd examined them closely enough earlier.

Maybe he'd never have examined them closely enough.

Then she opened the door, and there they were.

Lisbon was obviously trying to wind down from her day. She was wearing an oversized green sweatshirt and black tights. Jane noted them vaguely, but really all he could see were her eyes. They looked clear, untroubled. Maybe she really wasn't as upset by her day as he'd worried she would be. Or maybe she was just shoving it in the past.

Then she smiled at him in a sort of confused pleasure and opened her door a little wider, and that threw him off.

For some reason Jane hadn't expected her to be quite so pleased to see him after she'd brushed him off earlier.

He'd expected annoyance, or an order to go away because she was tired and she wasn't up to dealing with him, not a friendly invitation. He'd expected annoyance, and to be told to go away, that she was fine, or at best that she needed time to process.

Not this.

She really did look happy to see him.

Jane moved toward her in anticipation.

"Hey Jane," she said, eyes welcoming. "Did you bring cookies?" she asked hopefully.

Jane shook his head absently. He hadn't brought cookies. Hadn't known she'd want them. Didn't always bring them. Should have brought them.

Lisbon pouted for a second, wondering exactly why he was there. Not that she cared; she'd regretted shoeing him out of her office earlier (about two seconds after she'd done it actually). And she'd wanted to make amends. He was her closest friend after all. Anyway, TV wasn't providing the distraction that she'd hoped for and she'd been looking for a bit of company. His knock had pleasure bubbling up inside of her. She'd known it was him the second she'd heard it. Who else would drop by unannounced this late at night? Anyway, she didn't want anyone else.

She didn't know why he was acting so strangely though. "Well, come on in. I was just watching something stupid on TV," she explained, wondering why Jane still hadn't actually said anything.

Jane did come in. But despite the fact that he came for conversation, he didn't say anything. Not until Lisbon closed the door behind her, turned towards him with questions in those eyes of hers and opened her mouth to demand to know what the hell was going on.

At least that was what he assumed she was about to ask.

She didn't get the chance to actually ask it though.

Because he was already kissing her.

He ached for her.

And this was why he'd come here all along. He'd just been deluding himself about wanting to talk. He didn't want to _talk._ He just wanted her.

It'd been almost a year since he'd kissed her, but he hadn't kissed anyone else in the intervening time (though she _had_). There hadn't been anyone he'd even come close to wanting to kiss.

Just Lisbon. His Lisbon.

He'd missed her.

Jane's hands tangled more tightly into her hair as he moved closer, praying that she wouldn't push him away.

His movement spurred her into action and her hands (which had previously been frozen at odd angles in the air at her sides), jumped to clutch his vest. And that was when he sighed in relief as his brain dimly registered that she probably wasn't about to punch him in the nose, or something equally painful.

Not _while_ he was kissing her at least.

So he'd just have to never stop.

He heard her moan ever so softly.

Jane smiled against her lips before sliding a hand down to her shoulder. Then, taking a half a second to breathe, he softened his kiss. His attack shifting into something a little less demanding, a little less hurried. Because the last thing he wanted to do was rush. She was not something to be rushed.

The subtle shift gave Lisbon a half a chance to think. Jane could almost feel her brain struggling to catch up with what he'd done. He felt her body tensed and prepared to be shoved away in approximately half a second.

Then, miraculously, instead of feeling a painful knee to the groin or something similar, Jane felt her arms around his neck.

"Jane," Lisbon gasped softly.

"Patrick," he corrected quickly. He needed to be Patrick now, like this. She'd been deliberately calling him Jane _all night_, really for weeks now. She'd been trying to keep him away. (But not her eyes. Her eyes hadn't ever been telling him to go.) All he'd wanted was to be closer. So he'd listened to her eyes.

Jane let go of her shoulder to wrap his arm around her waist and drag her forward. No space, absolutely no space.

Lisbon's response was something of a cross between a sob and a moan as she let her head fall backwards, giving him the perfect opportunity to kiss her neck.

Jane decided he needed a reminder of what that part of her body tasted like.

And then he was suddenly desperate for a refresher course in all of her.

So he let his hands explore as he demanded another kiss.

Something Lisbon had no problem with, none whatsoever.

It was only when his hands slip under the bottom of her sweatshirt that she finally objected.

Jane figured that with her brain finally catching up, he was now about to be unceremoniously shoved away.

As expected, Lisbon pulled her lips from his with a gasp. "_Patrick,_" she warned softly as she stepped back slightly.

It certainly wasn't how he'd been hoping to hear her whisper his first name after all this time and he growled at her. Though he did (reluctantly) move his hands back down to her hips. He wasn't going to release her completely (and he wasn't sure she wanted him to). "What is it?" he asked hoarsely, shocked by the sound of his own voice.

He watched her open her eyes, those wonderfully green eyes. He saw her gulp and open her mouth, though it took a few minutes before any sound to came out of it and he knew that whatever she was about to say would be difficult, for one or both of them.

Lisbon averted her eyes over his right shoulder. "I can't do this again." She swallowed. She couldn't take being discarded each time something (or someone, _someone, someone_) more interesting came along. "I can't just be convenient," she admitted eventually, her voice thick with emotion.

Jane's brain literally couldn't compute that information. It took what felt like an eternity for him to even think about forming some sort of coherent reply to _that_.

(The resulting silence was far worse for her).

But the pause was unavoidable.

Because Jane was completely and utterly staggered.

Perceptive he may have been, but never in his wildest dreams could he have ever imagined _that _was her major issue_._

But then, why should he be so surprised. He'd never explained any of it to her (that was half the reason he'd been on his way over, to try. And look how that'd gone so far). And he was the one who… who'd broken them in the first place.

Then it occurred to him that Lisbon might not be used to being anyone's first consideration. Probably not even in anyone's top three.

Jane took her chin gently and turns it back towards him, his eyes pleading her to understand.

He kissed her slowly, running the fingers of his other hand up and down her spine until he felt a wave of tension release as she sighed against his mouth. Then he pulled back and waited for her to open her eyes, irritated beyond measure at the shock that he saw there.

"_You were never convenient, Teresa,"_ he insisted fiercely. _"And you never will be."_

It was true. When her eyes widened in shock as she realized how much he meant it, he crashed his mouth against hers again. She was possibly the _least_ convenient thing in his life, for so many reasons. And he was just about getting to the point where he thought it might be time to stop fighting that.

"_You_, never will be. Not _you,_ never _you,"_ he repeated against her lips. She was special. So very special.

He realized then that he wanted to explain it all to her more, and you know, _out loud_. He would think of a way to make her believe that she wasn't casual, that she was special, that there was just her. He would explain it _all_, he would. But he didn't.

Because suddenly _she_ was the one launching herself at him.

And _she_ was the one throwing her sweatshirt to the floor.

And Jane felt that under the circumstances, that was really all he could possibly be expected to care about, at least for the immediate future.

xxxxx

The End

There may be a tag to this. That has been written for about eight months (as parts of this have been). I'll put it up in a day or two after I read through it.


	22. TAG: The Awkward Afternoon After

A/N: Alright, here we go. The Tag. Might be one of my favourite parts of this whole series. Because it is.

xxxxx

317 TAG: The Awkward Afternoon After

xxxxx

The flowers were mocking her.

She didn't even know what they were doing there, sitting on her kitchen counter inconspicuously. In a _vase._

They'd come with their own damn _vase_.

Like he'd known she wouldn't have one.

He _had _known she wouldn't have one.

And okay, she didn't have one. But he needn't be so smug about it.

Sometimes that man really deserved a good smack.

Why had he sent them?

Jane didn't send her _flowers_.

That's not who they were.

Lisbon balled her hands into fists as she glared at the unexpected burst of colour in her kitchen.

This was getting out of control really quickly.

She didn't like it.

Damn flowers.

They were pretty though.

A dozen peach tulips. Sitting there on her counter, matching her walls charmingly.

He'd probably known they'd do that too.

She approached them warily. She'd already read the card. She'd more than read it, she'd _memorized it_.

"Dear Teresa, I saw these and thought of you. Patrick."

Short, sweet, to the point. Not overly romantic at all, really. (But again, since when did _romance_ come into it at all?)

Lisbon resisted the urge to pick it up and read it again.

Maybe it wasn't a big deal. Maybe she was over-thinking this. After all, this was exactly the sort of thing Jane would do. He was a self-confessed romantic, and, well, it wasn't like he'd gotten her roses or something. Something that had definite implications…

Except that he'd never sent her _any _kind of flowers before. Before, when… He'd taken her out to dinner a couple of times, but he'd never given her anything.

Now, after she'd let him spend the night in her bed for the first time in months, he was sending her flowers.

And she didn't know how to _not _read something into it.

Something that she probably shouldn't. And didn't want to.

(Did_ he_ want her to?_ Oh god…_)

For one, it was _Jane._

For another, they were friends now. Good friends.

Exactly.

Things were different now than they were before.

Very different.

Lisbon swallowed.

Things were harder to explain away.

She knew Jane now. Probably better than anyone alive. And he knew her. She cared about him. He was her friend.

And apparently she wasn't convenient. He'd said that the night before, multiple times. And in a tone of voice that…

Anyway, he'd _said it_. To her.

Right before she'd slept with him. _Again._

She'd ask herself why she'd done that, but she already knew the answer to that question.

(There were several answers actually, and only a few of them had to do with the fact that Jane really could do the most surprising things with his hands.)

She wasn't going to lie. She'd enjoyed their evening. Then the next morning, and not just because he'd made her breakfast.

He'd still been there, with an arm wrapped around her waist, holding her to him.

When they finally did get out of bed he'd made her laugh over coffee (and tea) and eggs. Afterwards, with one last kiss he'd ducked out of her apartment, claiming he needed a change of clothes, but he'd see her later.

It'd all been surprisingly not strange.

Lisbon thought she'd been dealing with it all very well actually.

Then the flowers had arrived.

Why the flowers?

Why now? And why, after all this time, was Jane sending her flowers?

Oh.

_Oh._

Did he _mean_ for things to be different?

She wasn't sure about… about _that_. She wasn't good at _that_. And even if she was, it was _Jane_.

She needed to nip this in the bud.

So to speak.

Lisbon sighed, and ran her finger along one of the petals.

Stupid things even smelled nice.

And they looked so pretty sitting there.

It would have never even occurred to her to buy flowers to set off her décor. They did kind of suit the place.

Still, this was _bad_.

_Very bad._

Probably.

She was still staring at them, biting her lip when she heard the knock.

Lisbon opened her door warily, already knowing who would be on the other side. "Hi," she said, irritated when _she_ heard the nerves in her own voice, so god only knew what _he'd_ picked up on.

"Hi," Jane said with a smile that she could only (honestly) describe as affectionate. "Can I come in?"

Lisbon opened the door wider and stepped aside warily. Jane seemed awfully cheerful, even for him. He practically bounded into her apartment, eyes darting around like they always did. They paused when they reached her counter. "I see you got my flowers," he remarked, his smile widening as he turned back to her.

"Yeah," Lisbon agreed managing to drum up a half a smile.

He frowned. "Don't you like them?" he asked, taking a step closer (_right into her damn personal space_), and looking irritatingly concerned.

"They're lovely, Jane," she told him truthfully after a second.

"Patrick," he corrected firmly.

She ignored the not-so-subtle interruption, "_But_ you didn't, _don't,_ need to buy me flowers."

"I know I don't _need_ to," he said in exasperation.

Then Lisbon realized that apart from his concern, Jane was also a tiny bit amused; he'd been expecting her objection. Bastard.

Maybe she really would smack him.

"Honestly Jane," she told him huffily. "I wasn't expecting anything"

"That's the point," he clarified as he crowded further into her personal space, backing her against the counter. "That's exactly the point."

She plowed on, ignoring the intimidation (and distraction) tactics, "And they're lovely," she repeated. "Last night was lovely, but well, you know as well as I do it was never about flowers with us."

"And yet I sent you flowers," Jane reminded her gently, brushing his fingers against her wrist.

"Well… yes," Lisbon was forced to acknowledge, her pulse skittering.

"I sent _you_ flowers," he repeated firmly. She shivered at his tone. Because she knew him. And she knew what he meant, what it all meant; she'd known all along. And it was exactly what she'd been afraid of. Jane wrapped an arm around her waist.

"Jane…" she said, trying to keep her voice firm.

He raised an eyebrow.

"_Patrick_…"

"Better."

"Why?" she whispered, her hand reaching up to toy with a stray spoon on her counter.

He stopped her fidgeting by picking up that same hand and brushing his lips across her knuckles.. "Because you deserve them."

"Not what I…" Lisbon said with a nervous shake of her head.

"I know," he assured her.

She dropped her forehead against his chest. "Patrick…"

"And because I wanted to," he admitted.

"Oh."

"Do you like them?" he whispered, asking the question for the second time. And this time she caught the faintest hint of uncertainty in his voice.

And somehow that meant more than anything else ever could have.

"Oh _yes_," she all but sobbed against his neck.

He wrapped his other arm around her, exhaling in relief. "Good."

Lisbon let herself hold onto him too. "I'm not so sure…"

"Neither am I, but I don't care anymore," he admitted, pulling back to look her in the eyes.

He smiled at her then, and she couldn't help smiling in return. "_Of course you don't_," she said with an indulgent shake of her head.

But if Jane was insulted he certainly didn't show it. Instead he kissed her.

Thoroughly.

Which Lisbon also didn't really mind.

Especially since she could still smell his damn flowers.

And God help her, but she really did want the terrifying things.

xxxxx

The End


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